Off Limits
by s1983079
Summary: [AU] There was something different about Sakura Kinomoto. She didn't belong at this high school. She didn't belong in this classroom. She was rebellious, wild, and she didn't care about any of the shit thrown at her. But she was vulnerable too and it was unnerving. After all, she was off limits.
1. Life Isn't Easy

**Chapter 1: Life Isn't Easy**

Let's put this straight, Sakura didn't hate her life. To an outsider, like yourself, her life might look bad – perhaps, even terrible. But she didn't mind that and she most definitely didn't care about it either. She knew the truth and that's all that mattered in her mind. There was a sturdy roof over her head every night. She was in the kitchen, cooking up a delicious meal. Her father, Fujitaka Kinomoto, wasn't abusive and he wasn't in prison either. That basically put her at a huge advantage in comparison to the rest of the kids who lived on her street. Most importantly, she had Hiro. He looked out for her, and, for the most part – albeit, in an unconventional, fucked-up way – she felt loved.

Most of the time.

But feeling loved didn't translate to mean that she was happy with her life. It didn't mean that she was pleased with the street she lived on that managed to taint every single man, woman, and child that was unlucky enough to land there. It didn't mean that she wouldn't try to run away at the first chance she was given.

She lived in Tokyo, the city that sucked out your soul and spat out whatever's left of you. Your job is to pick up the pieces and find out who you are.

She was about to do that. She was planning on doing that. Sooner or later.

Sakura flipped and tossed the chicken that was searing in the pan. It hissed with delight. She stirred the boiling rice in the pot two steps to her left. Teriyaki, just how Hiro liked it. She walked over to the sink and washed her hands. Looking out the window, the screen was hole-ridden and the frame rusty and eaten by the scorching heat and age. Then she smiled. Hiro was kneeling on the yellow overgrown grass, in front of the cracked, bruised asphalt of the road, working on his Harley. As if he sensed that she was watching him, he lifted his gaze to meet hers.

Possessive. Strict. A little on the crazy side. But, he's her family nonetheless.

Hiro wasn't her biological brother. Her mum, Nadeshiko, died in a car accident when she was only two years old. Sakura doesn't remember her, and although she's a bit miffed at the fact that she never got to know her own mother, it was her dad that she was truly worried about. The only thing that Sakura has of her late mother was an old, beat-up camera from the nineties, and she held on to it like it was her lifeline.

She used to use the high school's dark room to develop the film herself, but now, she would have to figure something else out. Sakura is auto-didactic. Self-taught, if you will. That doesn't come without a price, because she's probably no good, but taking photos is what she loves. Her father always said that Nadeshiko had a camera in her hands at all times. It's funny how things can be passed down without even meeting or knowing the person. In a way, Sakura felt a connection to Nadeshiko.

A few years after Nadeshiko passed away, Sakura's dad took another stab at dating. Enter Emiko and twelve-year-old Hiro. She knew Emiko was bad news for her dad. Even at the tender age of six. She smelled like cheap perfume and smoke and she always went out of her way to make Sakura feel like a burden. But Fujitaka seemed happy – at first, anyway – and she got Hiro. So, it wasn't all bad. Over the next six years, however, things deteriorated, along with their relationship. Emiko started skipping out on them for days at a time, and even flaunted other men in front of Sakura's dad. After more than a few knock-down, dragged-out fights, Emiko had finally bailed for good. When Fujitaka found Hiro, who was only sixteen, packing his things up, he told him to unpack his shit and go set the table for dinner, and that was it. Emiko was out, and Hiro was staying for good. When Sakura asked her dad why she left, his response was something along the lines of, "Emiko's a slut. Don't be like her."

The night Emiko left was the first night Sakura snuck into Hiro's room. It was innocent, of course. Sakura had only wanted to comfort him, even though he showed no signs of being particularly saddened by his mum's absence. At first, he stiffened when he felt the bed dip under her weight. But her intuition had been right, because that night, Hiro held her and cried himself to sleep while she rubbed his arm and sniffed quietly. He never cried again, and they never spoke about it, but he still sleeps with her on occasion. Except now, it was Hiro who snuck into her room.

And it wasn't innocent. Not anymore.

The years passed, as they always do, while Hiro still lived at home, neither her dad nor Sakura wanted to see him leave. Maybe it was because her dad was rarely at home. He made the Tokyo-Tomoeda route twice a week, and occasionally he took longer trips that had him on the road for weeks at a time, which left him very little time for actual parenting. Since sleeping be herself in this rundown house, in this horrific neighbourhood was pretty much a death sentence, she was happy to have Hiro by her side. With his tall frame, bugling tattooed muscles, uniform of wife beater and don't-fuck-with-me expression plastered to his face, you'd have to be stupid to break into their house.

And it wasn't the only reason she was happy to have him around. She needed him. They needed each other. It has always been them against the world. Not that the world was particularly against them. The world just didn't care for people like them.

She started making the sauce for the meal. Soy sauce. Honey. Water. A shit-ton of garlic. Sakura had read the receipt on the internet somewhere after she had seen it on some cooking show that she always watched with Hiro in the afternoon.

Maybe it would make him crack a goddamn smile for once. He had always been a bit of a ticking time bomb. The homemade, highly unpredictable type. But as of late, she had been feeling like he was seconds away from exploding.

Tick, tick tick.

For the rest of the meal prep, she was on autopilot. She chopped, stirred, drained, flipped and arranged everything on two plates. She took out bottles of Sake from the fridge and placed them on the table. Then she proceeded to kick the whiny door and bang her fist against the screen a few times to draw his attention.

"Dinner's ready," she yelled.

"Two secs." She could hear the clink of heavy tools dropping onto the concrete near the yellow grass he was kneeling on. His bike had been fucked for two weeks now, and he can't take it to the shop because he spent his last few bucks on bailing out his best mate, Saito. Not that having a broken-down bike had slowed him down anyway. The guy was never home anymore.

"Food's getting cold. Get your ass inside or I'm eating without you," she muttered and slammed the screen door with a bang.

She waited for him, slouched on the chair in front of her plate, scrolling her thumb along the touch-screen of her phone – it was one of the three things that her dad made sure we'd always budget for: the rent, the food, and her phone. Most kids would be pissed to have an older mode, but she was just happy that the thing had internet capabilities. Hiro sauntered in and collapsed on the chair opposite Sakura. He didn't bother to wash his dirtied, greasy hands.

She chanced a glance at him. Hiro looked like a man. He had looked that way for a long time now. His arms were ripped – not in the gym rat way, just in the way of a guy who does manual labour – and his body is big, wide, and commanding. Long, dirty black hair that almost touched his shoulders, brown eyes, cut bone structure – the only good thing he inherited from his deadbeat real dad.

Every time they hung outside the house together – which, admittedly, wasn't often nowadays – girls that went to Sakura's school would throw themselves at him. He screwed half of them – even though they were underage. It was half the charm about him. Other than the fact that he was inked from head-to-toe. It was that slightly unstable, dangerous vibe that he gave off. Every girl wanted to be a good girl until a bad boy whisks her off her feet and corrupts her.

And every girl hated the one who stood in their way. That would be Sakura. At least in their minds. Sure, Hiro would fuck them, but that's all they ever got. He always stood a little too close to Sakura, stared a little too long. They noticed. And they were ruthless. So, she was deemed the brother fucker. She didn't really care. Hiro didn't help mattered by forbidding the entire male population of Musashi High School to stay far away from her. He was out of high school before I even began, but he was somewhat of a legend around there. No one in their right mind would willingly cross him.

"How's the chicken?" she asked, keeping her eyes on her own piece of meat as she sliced it carefully.

"Juicy." He laughed, his mouth full. From her peripheral, she could see a trail of liquid traveling from the corner of his lip to his chin, but he didn't make any move to wipe it.

He took another bite, his eyes honed in on her. "So, when are you turning eighteen?"

"You're her brother," she grinded out. "Shouldn't you at least pretend to know this kind of crap?"

"I'm a shit brother," he retorted, his voice as dry as his chicken is juicy. "And when asked a question, you fucking answer. It's really that simple, Kura."

He called her Kura. Her name was Sakura, and her friends called her Saks, but Hiro, much to her dismay, had been calling her Kura since day one.

"April first," she groaned. Hiro moved his eyes up and down her body as much as he could with the barrier that was the table between them.

"What's two more weeks?" he mumbled as he rubbed his lower lip with his thumb.

"Until what?" she asked, playing dumb. He knows she wasn't dumb. In fact, he resented the fact that she wanted more out of life than her high school diploma. But his comments have become increasingly inappropriate over the past few months, and even though it was flattering, sometimes alarm bells go off in her head.

"Until your big brother can show you just how much he loves you." Hiro chuckled sinisterly. She let loose a nervous smile.

She knew Hiro wanted to get her into bed, but more than that, he wanted to own her. Own her thoughts, her actions, her body. He thought he already did. In his twisted mind, he called it love. Why wouldn't he? It's not like Hiro had ever seen a good example of it. Hell, neither had she. In his mind, he protected her, took care of her, and he needed her. In a way, she needed him, too. But, she just couldn't ever see them happening. This – what they were doing at the moment – was what the rest of her life would look like. Sakura cooking dinner, wishing she was anywhere else, and Hiro being perfectly content to work on his bike and get tanked with his shitty friends every night. No, thank you. She was going to have to pass on that one.

It wasn't like the attraction wasn't there. She had a major crush on him when she was younger. She thought he hung the moon and the stars, making everything brighter in her dull universe, and she thought she did the same thing for him. But if he were the one, it wouldn't feel so freaking wrong every time his throbbing dick "accidentally" pressed against her ass at night.

Getting up from her seat, Sakura took the plates to the sink and sauntered back with a new beer, cracking it open in front of him. When she did this, he snaked one arm around her waist and grabbed her in one swift movement so that she was straddling him on his lap. She could feel the seam of his zipper grinding into her crotch. She wasn't gonna lie – it felt nice.

"Hey," he breathed into her mouth, always a whisper from a kiss, but never there. Where he wanted to be.

"Hi." she swallowed visibly.

"So." His hand travelled into her inner thigh, and she felt something stiffen underneath her. She took a deep breath. The room was dark and dingy and small, cluttered with old furniture, with their pasts. It wasn't exactly romantic, but she couldn't deny the heady feeling coursing through her.

"You a virgin, Kura?" he whispered into her lips again, and this time it could qualify as a kiss. A part of her wanted it to. The other part begs her not to go over that invisible, fragile line that she was straddling just now. "You saved yourself for me? Kept this untouched?" His fingers hovered over her groin, barely touching.

"No." The word comes out more like a groan. Never mind the fact that she had only done it twice. She didn't need to tell him who it was. He knew. Ryosuke Ikuta. Eleventh grade. The only guy she dated for more than two months before she got bored. They actually made it through a whole semester before she dumped his ass. She didn't care that she had given him her virginity. She wasn't waiting for "the one". To be honest, she had never really thought that one person putting their body part into another person was that big of a deal. It's probably a good thing she didn't have high hopes, because both times were pretty anticlimactic.

There's something in Hiro's already-hooded expression that becomes even darker and more severe, and for a minute, her heart beat faster for the wrong reason. Not because she was excited, but because she was unnerved. She waited, studying his expression carefully, before his hard stare turned into a half-assed, placid smile.

"Good," he said and squeezed her butt a little too hard, indicating that he didn't think it was good at all. "I don't think you could handle me without a little practice, anyway."

Then his lips weren't hovering anymore – they're kissing – not slowly either. He didn't ask for permission. He is not tentative or unsure. His tongue invades her mouth in an instant, and it caught her off-guard. As she sucked in some air, he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Sakura placed both hands on his cheeks to ease him away, but he threw her hands off.

Possessive. Hungry. Angry.

"You taste like heaven, little sister," he hissed into her mouth. Nothing about this felt right. People knew them as brother and sister. The fact that they weren't blood-related was only somewhat consoling. Hell, even the kiss doesn't feel right. Like they were doing it all wrong. She felt him squeezing her ass harder, digging his dirty fingernails into her flesh, and winced.

"I've been waiting so long for this." His words not only pierced – they penetrated her – along with his fingers that are now dragging themselves slowly, roughly toward her sex. She breathed out harshly.

"Hiro," she dropped her forehead to his, "you're hurting me."

"I know." His tongue continued attacking her mouth, his hands even more aggressive on her than before.

Panic. It trickled into her slowly. She knew Hiro. Knew him well. He wasn't a bad guy – definitely not a good guy, but not a rapist either – and he knew damn well her dad would kill him if he ever seriously wronged her.

"You're starting school tomorrow," he said, licking his way down to her chin and neck. She let him, and even though she didn't want this, she couldn't help her body's reaction to his touch. It's humming, singing, asking for more. And why not give in to feeling good with someone she knew and trusted with her life? Still, something held her back.

"How you gonna get all the way to Tokyo Private every day?"

"Take the bus," she answered flatly. She wasn't giving up on this opportunity. Her dad somehow came up with her tuition to one of the best high schools in Tokyo. Private. Top-notch. Said he had been saving for years, and only just now – her senior year – saved enough to send her. Not that she was complaining. She had a feeling that her dad secretly felt guilty about being gone so often. That, and he had heard what the kids at school were saying about her. That Sakura's a whore. A slut. A brother fucker.

After her best friend, Tomoyo, moved away, they got worse. She was a lone ranger. An easy target. The boys were all afraid to interact with her – pussies – but the girls? Girls are vicious and sneaky. Like the boys, they're also afraid of Hiro, but they did shit on the down low. Stashing shit – literal shit – in Sakura's locker. Stealing her clothes when she was in the shower after P.E. Stuff that couldn't be directly traced back to them, even though everyone knew who did it. And while Sakura honestly never really cared what other people thought of her, she was being offered a golden ticket out of this shithole town, and she wasn't giving it up. Especially not for something as miniscule as transportation.

"The buses don't run that early, baby girl." Hiro laughed, and why did she think he was that attractive in the first place? His smile is too big, his teeth too pointy, like a wolf's, and the scent of his sweat is too sour.

"Nice try. I checked, Hiro. They're twenty-four hours."

"You can walk, my ass." He pulled his head back, laughing. "You're not taking the bus alone. I'm giving you a ride back and forth, got it?"

She hated depending on anyone for anything. She may not have a car, but she has worked since the day she turned fourteen. Her dad signed a waiver, much to Hiro's dismay, and she got a job at the 7/11 around the corner – where she reluctantly quit once she found out she wouldn't have time to work when school started. When she need to be somewhere, she walked or rode her bike. Sakura despised being dependent on anyone, but if there was one thing she hated more, it was mornings. Specifically, early mornings. And to get to school on time, she'd have to wake up at an ungodly hour.

She wanted to say no.

She should've say no.

But as his rock-hard erection grinded into her violently, she said something else entirely.

"Fine."


	2. First Day

**Chapter 2: First Day**

Most kids hate school uniforms. Sakura wasn't like most kids. Besides the fact that she wouldn't have to put any effort into her daily outfit, it was actually kind of hot – in a naughty, low-budget porn sort of way. A grey skirt that ended just above the knees, pressed, white-buttoned shirt with an ironed collar, matching grey blazer, and white knee-high socks. She was missing the Oxfords that were supposed to be on her feet, but Hiro had already shelled out over two hundred dollars for the school uniform, and she couldn't ask him to give her more for shoes, too. He would want something in return even if he did have the money, and her dad wouldn't be home for at least another week. So, Sakura was rocking her beat-up, trusty Vans. All she needed was fucking piggy tails and an anal bead necklace to make it onto one of those late-night television shows.

She walked up to the most intimidating set of stairs she had ever laid her eyes on, while unbraiding her hair and letting it hang freely down her back. Hiro miraculously got his bike fixed in time to take her to school in the morning, and riding on the back of a motorcycle meant a fuck load of tangles. She yanked her earbuds out of her ears and paused the EXO song on her phone as she made her way through the air-conditioned halls of Tokyo Private. Everything about Tokyo private was different to Musashi High School. Musashi was full of graffitied tables, old, crappy vending machines, and borderline dilapidated buildings. But, the biggest difference was that Tokyo Private is all indoors. At Musashi, and most schools in Tokyo, each class was in a separate building. Forget about even trying to find a lunch table inside – everyone tried to escape the oven that is Tokyo by eating in the cafeteria. Sakura had only been lucky enough once. At least she wouldn't have that problem here.

She ignored the curious and catty eyes and focussed on the slip of pink paper with her locker number and combination in her hand. 135C. She was completely out of her element. She felt naked. Exposed. Like they could all see right through her. Like they knew she didn't belong at this school. She forced herself to keep her head high. Tokyo Private was the complete opposite of Musashi, but high school is high school, and these vultures could smell weakness a kilometre away. She located 135C, and of course, it was the top locker. She flipped her brown hair off her shoulder and stood on her tippy toes to work the lock. She half expected them to be electronic based on everything else in this high-tech school.

Finally, it popped open and she checked her schedule to see which books she could stuff inside for now, because her backpack was heavy as hell. She crammed her old school blue backpack inside, only taking her textbook for her second class, Mathematics, her binder, and a pencil. Homeroom was basically an hour of taking attendance, daily announcements, and social hour, from what she gathered. She hung back, observing the different cliques, and she was pleasantly surprised when she seemed to go unnoticed by her peers.

Her second hour classroom was empty when she arrived, and she had her pick of any seat in the room. She paused in the doorway, taking in the shiny, new desks free of crude carvings, and she bet they didn't even have gum stuck underneath. Something, this felt like crossing a bridge. There was no going back now. And she could either hide out in the back or take a seat up front and take what she came here for by the balls.

 _Own this fucking preppy school, Sakura,_ a voice inside her commanded.

A smirk tugged at her lips as she took a seat front and centre, directly in front of the teacher's desk. And she hoped he or she isn't a spitter. Students started to pour in, and she busied herself with studying her schedule. Japanese, Chemistry, P.E, English, and, of course, Mathematics. She was in way over her head, but the dread didn't even come close to the excitement that rolled through her. She heard everyone settle into their seats around her – her hair falling like a curtain, shielding her from their view – but she could still feel their stares and hear their whispers. All of a sudden, the chatter stopped and a deep, imposing voice assaulted her ears. Goose bumps pricked her arms, and she wasn't sure where it was coming from, because she never had never responded to a voice like that in her life.

"Class," the low voice said.

Really? That was his introduction? No 'Hello, how was your break?' She had assumed the teachers here were all about buttering up their students and rich parents. But she guessed that the teacher here didn't get that memo.

"Most of you know each other, but we have a couple of new faces this year. Let's get this out of the way, because there's a lot of work ahead of us. Miss Ueto?" His tone was clipped and abrupt, and why couldn't she look up? Christ, what was going on, and how was she going to make it stop?

"Yes?" a hesitant, feminine voice chirped.

"Care to tell us a little about yourself? I can practically hear his eyes rolling.

"I, uh, just transferred from Osaka High."

"Riveting," he drawled, his footsteps getting closer. "Anything to add?"

"No." Her voice is small. Fuck him. Sakura was already over his condescending ass.

"Good. Miss Kinomoto," he trailed off.

Sakura swept her hair out of her face and looked at him, the words died on her tongue. The word handsome didn't do him any justice, and for the first time in her life, she was rendered speechless. His jaw and cheekbones look like they've been carved in stone, quiff haircut, and his narrowed eyes – a fascinating amber colour – are scanning her intently. Luscious lips, the bottom lip so much fuller than the top one, and strong, straight nose filled in his carved face. His slightly wavy, thick, brown hair is pushed back off his face in a way that makes him look more like a man than any guy she had ever seen before.

He couldn't be the teacher. He just couldn't. How the hell were the students supposed to concentrate in class? Irrational anger filled her gut, twisting around a hot ball of lust that was growing bigger south of her naval. She would have to look at this face all year long and pretend that she wasn't affected? But as she threw her silent tantrum, she realised that he was still waiting for an answer.

"Sakura Kinomoto?" he questioned again, his patience hanging by a thread.

He was directly in front of her now, looking right past her. He had one hip propped on his desk, and he was wearing a crisp, white dress shirt – the sleeves rolled to his elbows – elegant, dark denim jeans, and shiny brown shoes. She had to crane her neck to see his face, he was so close. If nothing else, it snapped her out of her physical reaction to his proximity.

"Here," she managed to croak out, and she hated how weak she sounded. His eyes darted to her immediately, and he lifted one disbelieving brow.

"You don't look like a Tokyo Private girl." The smirk on his face was enough for her to snap out of her trance.

"And you don't look like a teacher, but here we are." She hit him with the same sarcasm he so generously served to everyone else. Sakura's eyes grew wide, her classmates snickered, his jaw hardened, and all she wanted to do was reach out and grab those words and stuff them back into her mouth. What the fuck was wrong with her? He looked her up and down, and she didn't know if it was disgust or annoyance colouring his gorgeous face. Whatever it was, it told her that she had already landed a spot on his shit list, which was the last place she needed to be right now. God, how did she go from sitting at the front row so she didn't miss a word he said to slinging insults at the man? She really was a piece of work.

"I apologise if I don't meet your standards," he mocked. "While we're on the subject of standards, Tokyo Private has a strict dress code. Sneakers are not acceptable footwear." He sent a pointed look towards her shoes. Awesome. Just like that, things go from bad to worse for Sakura. "Headmaster Ayase's office, Miss Kinomoto." He tilted his head towards the door, his face still perfectly composed, devoid of any emotion. His level of self-control was something that Sakura had never encountered.

"Chop-chop."

"Please, I can't…" She cleared her throat, hating herself for breaking, and loathing herself even more for her stupid slip of the tongue. Can't afford shoes. Can't go home. Can't fuck this up. But she also can't say any of that out loud.

"You can't?" He crossed his arms over his chest expectantly. He didn't know her or her life. To him, she was just another preppy, rich kid with an aversion to authority.

"Never mind," she grinded out through gritted teeth. She gathered her shit and hit up Headmaster Ayase's office – good thing she remembered how to get there. She had orientation last week, but this school was huge – and pleaded her case. Her secretary informed Sakura that he was in a meeting, so she had to wait on one of the oversized leather couches against the wall.

After about half an hour, her door opened and a blonde boy with dimples for days made his exit. He looked around Sakura's age, maybe younger, but who knows. His eyes didn't have the hardened look about them like Sakura.

"Miss, uh," Headmaster Ayasa snapped his fingers, as if her name is on the tip of her tongue.

"Kinomoto," Sakura offered, a polite smile plastered on her face. "Sakura Kinomoto."

"Ah, yes, Miss Kinomoto. What can I do for you?" She motioned for Sakura to enter, and she took a seat in front of her desk. Her luxurious office did nothing to make her feel like she belonged there. She had a fucking tea set and little bronze sculptures on his desk and a massive bookshelf that put the local library to shame. The deep brown walls were riddled with decorative frames that boasted of her achievements.

"As you know, I'm new here," Sakura began.

"Yes, I'm aware," she hedged, steepling her fingers.

"I was sent to the office because I don't have proper shoes. I don't have an endless amount of money, or any, really, at my disposal. I'm lucky to even be here. The uniform alone was enough to break my bank, but I made it happen. I don't know when I'll be able to afford a new pair." Sakura decided to get straight to the point because she knew she didn't have the luxury to be tentative and overly polite. The woman in front of her respected that, or at the very least, she wasn't appalled by that, because Headmaster Ayase's eyebrows knitted together as she stole a glance at said shoes, silently assessing the situation.

"This school and getting into a good university are the most important things in the world to me, miss. And while I promise to get some shiny new Oxfords as soon as I can, I'd hate to think that Tokyo Private was the kind of place to kick someone out because they didn't have the means to buy your fancy shoes. And frankly, I'm not here to put on a fashion show. I'm here to learn."

Were her shoes really that offensive? Or did Mr. Douchebag simply want to teach her a lesson. She wanted to strangle him. Just thinking about his smug face made her heart lose its usual tempo and go crazy in her chest.

"Enough with the theatrics, Miss Kinomoto." She waved her off. "Get proper shoes when you can and return to classes in the meantime. What's your second period? I'll let your teacher know."

Well, that was easy enough. Almost too easy.

"Mathematics."

"Ah, Mr. Li. I should've suspected."

Mr. Li? She didn't even catch his name before getting kicked out. New record. Her face must've shown her confusion, because she elaborated.

"He's stern, if not a little cranky. But he's an invaluable source of knowledge. As you have probably experienced yourself, he is not the type of person you'd like to argue with. All the same, learn to get by in his class, and you'll do just fine at Tokyo Private, Miss Kinomoto."

"Thank you, Miss. Ayase," she said as she stood up from her seat in front of her and turned for the door.

"And Miss. Kinomoto?" Headmaster Ayase called out. Sakura paused at the door and looked back. "Your transcripts were impeccable. Tokyo Private can open a lot of doors for you. Don't waste it."

"Yes, miss." she gulped, feeling somehow scolded and complimented at the same time.

"That'll be all," she dismissed Sakura and returned her attention to the stack of papers at her desk.

Good riddance to that.

* * *

The rest of the day was a blur. When she got back to Mr. Li's class, he didn't even give her a second glance. Thank you, Baby Jesus. She attended her classes, took notes, and generally laid low, which was exactly what she aimed for when she first got here. She was kind of relieved to see her second period as a glitch, because, while she appreciated the opportunity to attend this out-of-this-world posh high school, what she really needed was a scholarship to a good university. She has no idea what she wants to study. She has no clue where she wants to be when she's older. She just knows that it needed to be out of Tokyo. Something that allowed her to be completely independent, which meant she was already behind.

These kids have had their paths handpicked since diapers – some even before – she was sure, and Sakura was on the other side just hoping to get into a university, any university, far away from here.

Lunch was an affair with a Great Gatsby flair at Tokyo Private. The cafeteria looked more like a glitzy airport with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the streets, red-bricked walls, and new shiny tables that looked more like diner booths. This place was free of the slightly annoying yet very depressing scent of cheap, oily, mass-made junk food. The combination of swanky space and spotless, ironed uniform makes it feel like she was walking in a parallel universe.

She didn't like it and she didn't feel like taking a place near any of the people she had met during her classes, so she grabbed a tray and took a seat at the far end of the room. Sitting on the headrest with her feet on the bench, she stared at her lunch and tried to calculate her next social move. The general idea was to stay away from trouble and not get into any shit that could get her expelled. That meant she had to play nice with everyone, but she didn't necessarily have to make friends. She simply needed to make sure she didn't make any enemies either.

Still staring at her untouched lunch, she felt something hit the side of her thigh and lifted her head up. It was the blonde kid who got out of Headmaster Ayase's office, and he just smacked her with his binder. Sakura quirked one eyebrow in question. He looked like everybody else here. Rich and clean and cocky as hell. Now that he was close to her, she could see that his eyes were a royal blue and that he had really fully lips – too full, maybe – and hair that would make any respectable boy band envious.

"Can I help you?" Sakura asked, unable to completely tamp down her attitude.

"I don't know." He tilted his head to the side. "Can you?" It was the tilt of his voice that gave it away. Gay. So gay. She couldn't really explain it, but suddenly, she felt a lot less guarded.

"Depends on what you're looking for." She offered a smile that was also an olive brand. He took it.

"I'm looking for good company and bad influence."

"Then I'm your girl."

"Glad to hear." He tossed himself theatrically onto the seat opposite her and sighed. "Because everyone here looks like a total bore and I'm losing my mind." His eyes rolled, and they both burst into laughter when they looked down at the tray he had just put on the table, because it was full of kale salad with apples and other bullshit.

"Eriol." He pointed at himself.

"Sakura." She stubbed a finger to her chest. "But my friends call me Saks."

"Then I guess that's what I'll call you, too." Eriol told her that he was another one of the very few new students, and that he was also a senior, so that practically make them related somehow. Maybe not the best analogy, because her stepbrother made a habit out of sticking his tongue down her throat and trying to get into her pants any time he could.

Eriol just came back from studying at an English boarding school in England with a really long name. He was supposed to finish his studies there and go to Oxford university. However, his grandfather, the dude who holds the purse strings in his family, is dying, so his parents decided to move him back here so the whole family could spend some more time with their beloved patriarch. Eriol said he didn't really mind either way, because he tried to have fun no matter where he was, and Sakura actually believed him.

The conversation was easy and so was forgetting how the day started. Maybe that was why she was so shocked by the end of it. After lunch – in which Eriol and Sakura exchanged phone numbers and promised to meet each other after the last bell rang – she attended her two last classes.

The block schedule is yet another thing she needed to get used to. They had four classes per day at this school. Two before lunch and two after.

When she met up with Eriol in the hallway, they made their way to the main entrance of the red-bricked building. They were laughing and talking about a girl they had seen with the most outrageous makeup on her face until she heard the low rumble of a Harley.

Sakura froze instantly, because the sound was so aggressive and out of place in comparison to the chirping of the birds, the little fountain in front of the entrance, and the low hushes of the well-behaved students, and that threw her back to her reality. Leather boots. Tattoos galore. The scent of possessiveness, poverty, and despair in the air.

Yes, they all have a smell.

They smell like Hiro.

"Yo, Kura! Look at your fine ass in that uniform." Hiro laughed like it was the first time he had seen her like this, pulling out his helmet and checking her out without even hiding it. Sakura immediately turned scarlet red. He was supposed to be her brother. Supposed being the operative word. She could see Eriol staring at her from her peripheral, wondering what the hell was going on.

Her hold on the straps of her backpack tightened, and she forced a smile. Funny how aware she was of their inappropriate dynamic now that she was at Tokyo Private.

"That's my stepbrother," she said, putting emphasis on the word step. Pseudo-incest wouldn't earn her any brownie points at this school. Even cool-as-a-cucumber Eriol would frown upon that. "He's my ride."

Eriol nodded, and the movement is faint, just like his wary expression. She knew that look. She had seen it before, so she looked away. Pity.

"See you tomorrow?" Eriol asked. Sakura's gaze drifted back to him because looking away was a huge mistake. Now she knew for a fact that everybody around her was looking back and forth from Hiro to Sakura, trying to fill in the blanks.

"Sure will." She gave him a fist bump – and damn, if the prospect of a new friendship didn't cheer her up a little – and took a brave step towards her stepbrother.

Then another and another. She descended the massive stairs that led to the fountain overlooking the high school's entrance, and when she was close enough to Hiro, he pulled her in for a hug. An incredibly awkward, greedy hug. She didn't have biological siblings, but she was almost certain that she wasn't supposed to feel his groin up against hers.

Hiro let her go after long seconds, and with each passing one, she realised that she'd never fit in a school like this. And it wasn't just her worn-out shoes. When he released her, his nostrils were flared, his jaw clenched, and he was staring straight at Eriol. Sakura brought her hand up to cup Hiro's jaw, brushing her thumb along his stubble, quieting his storm in the only way she seemed to be able to do.

Panic swirled in her gut. She knew what he was thinking, and she needed to distract and defuse him. Hiro had always been overprotective, but over the last few months, he had crossed defensive territory and was now squarely lying in the batshit-crazy zone.

"Missed you today," Sakura murmured, holding her breath. She waited for his reaction and sighed with relief as his eyes softened at her touch.

"Guess what?" Hiro smirked, and she knew Eriol was long forgotten. For now, anyway. Hiro is gorgeous, there was no denying that, but instead of swooning over that smirk, she was jaded to it.

"What?" she asked, still standing too close to him and too close to his bike and too close to the situation she was so desperate to get out of.

"I got you a present."

"You did?" She raised an eyebrow, sceptic. He nodded, turned around, and pulled out a brand new, shiny white motorbike helmet. Sakura's heart dropped at the sight of it. He couldn't afford this.

"Check it out," he said. Sakura grabbed it from his hands. It was heavy as hell, but she wasn't complaining. It was so much better than the one she wore on the way to school that looked like an old school military helmet.

But she knew that Hiro was broke as hell, so the fact that he had money worried her. There was no way he came by it honestly.

"Hiro?" She didn't need to ask the actual question. Just the fact that she was looking at the helmet like it was a bomb and not a gift spelled it out for him.

Hiro cleared his throat. "What?" Been picking up extra shifts at the garage lately," he said. He could be telling the truth. He had been gone a lot lately, but the look in his eyes told her that he was hiding something. She had so many things that she wanted to say to him, but the only thing that came out was "okay". Because she knew he's volatile, and she usually didn't mind – she can take care of herself – but she didn't want a scene. Not here.

"Get on the fucking bike, baby. I don't got all day."

She hopped on, eager to get out of this place. Hiro had always been her safe place. Her comfort zone. But right now, it felt like her two worlds were colliding, and she was desperate to keep them firmly apart.

He snaked his hand backwards and gave her thigh a squeeze bfore he started his Harley and revved it up, leaving a cloud of dust and smoke behind them.

Through the veil of filth, she chanced one last glance at Tokyo private for the day. She could see Eriol on the stairway, watching her with a concerned expression, his backpack still slung casually on one shoulder. A group of snobbish girls looked at her from their place, sitting on the steps with their lattes clutched tight. And Mr. Li stood there – hands in his pockets – looking even more pissed off than he was earlier.


	3. Testing the Waters

**Chapter 3: Testing the Waters**

 _Where the hell did she come from?_ – was the only thought that ran through Syaoran's mind. She wasn't from here, that was for sure. He had been teaching privileged kids long enough to know the odd one out when he saw one. Not to mention, he was one himself once upon a time.

When he walked into class and saw her in the first row, he ignored her completely, just like he did with the rest – high school girls tend to be a little overzealous – it's not the best idea to encourage them.

He didn't notice the way her wide, innocent eyes took him in. He didn't notice her crimson pout. And he definitely didn't notice the way her body filled out her uniform unlike any other girl her age. To him, she was just another student. At least that's what he told himself.

 _She didn't look like the rest of them_ – that was his second though, and it was somewhere so deep in the back of his head, he wasn't sure he had the necessary access to wipe it from his mind.

Syaoran has taught Mathematics at Tokyo Private for nearly four years now, and he knew all these students. Not the names or the faces. The type. The ones who thought they were only as good as their worst grade. The ones who would scheme and plot and betray if it meant being the best, even at someone else's expense.

That's what Headmaster Ayase gives him. The best. The teachers here give them the tools and discipline they need to succeed in whatever careers their mommy and daddy have chosen for them, and they go on to be perfect, little carbon copies of their parents.

With her dirty black Vans and chipped black nail polish, he knew she was different. Either way, he was caught off-guard when she called him out in the middle of class and he was forced to respond quickly. He told her to get her stuff and leave, and almost regretted it, because he wasn't sure what her story was.

She was either rebelling against her parents or a scholarship student. Those were the only two options at this school. His guess was that she's a little bit of both. He knew the type, because he was the type. He fought and resisted his parents every step of the way growing up. He wasn't fit for a life as a robot. He liked martial arts and music and drinking. A lot of good that did him. He's still the black sheep, but somehow, he ended up teaching in the same world he rebelled so hard against, only he was in Hong Kong. Imagine that.

He scrubbed his hand down his face and closed the laptop screen he had been staring blankly at for the last ten minutes. Why the fuck was he even giving her a second thought? He left his belongings and decided to grab a pack of Smokes and a can of Grape Soda from across the street before he came back to finish putting together the rest of the syllabus for the year. See? Rebel. These should have been ready to pass out on the first day.

Then he saw Sakura Kinomoto. And she wasn't alone. She was walking over to a guy who looked like a metal band dropout, and he threw his arms around her. She accepted his embrace. Syaoran couldn't see Sakura's face, but she seemed almost nervous, which he guessed was very out of character for a girl who called out her teacher on the first day of school.

They were basically grinding in the parking lot, and somewhere in his head, he knew he should've put a stop to it. But they were like a car accident that he couldn't look away from. If he wasn't sure before, it was clear now.

She was no Tokyo Private princess.

The man on the bike grabbed her ass, looked over her shoulder, and spotted the blond kid who she walked out of school with. Eriol Hiiragizawa. Syaoran taught him his last period. Obviously gay, but there was no way for the simpleton on the bike to know that from looks alone.

Sakura's gaze followed her biker boyfriend's, and when her eyes landed on Eriol, her whole face dropped in horror. She schooled her features quickly and turned her attention to pacifying him. If the whole scene wasn't so creepy, seeing him fall under her spell as quickly as he did would've been comical.

He handed Sakura a red helmet, and when he turned around to mount his bike, his eyes met Syaoran's for a split second. And that was all it took for Syaoran to recognise him. Syaoran stuffed his hands into his pockets to keep them from strangling the bastard right there and now.

 _What the fuck was Sakura doing with this guy?_

Hiro Matsuwa.

The man he had been trying to find for the past year.

The man who ruined his family.

The man Syaoran wanted dead.

The school year was about to get a lot more interesting.

 _Thank you, Sakura Kinomoto_

* * *

Sakura swung open the chain-linked fence in her front yard and made her way past the collection of empty beer cans and mismatched chairs – they had permanent ass prints from Hiro and his good-for-nothing friends – before heading inside.

The inside, unfortunately, wasn't much better. She lived in the ghetto of Tokyo, where the houses were overrun with bionic sewer roaches, and the streets were overrun with criminals. Ironically enough, all the streets in her neighbourhood were named after universities. She lived on Kyushu street, which she figured was about as close to a university as she'd ever get.

Tokyo Private could change everything for her. And boy, was she off to a great start.

Not.

Ignoring the mountain of dishes in the sink, Hiro's random tools lying everywhere, and a suspicious wet spot on the old green carpet, Sakura headed straight to her room.

Let's be honest – this place wasn't ever The Versace, but when her dad goes out of town, it goes from bad to worse. And she couldn't bring herself to care today. She paused to look at the giant corkboard full of photos above her dresser. She saw her mum pregnant with her. Her dad taking her for a ride on the back of his scooter, rocking a cheesy grin and ratty light brown hair.

Then the more recent ones of Tomoyo and Sakura smoking weed in her car on an old back road while they were supposed to be in school.

And Hiro. So many pictures of Hiro.

Teaching her how to skateboard, sitting with her in the hospital after she broke her ankle on said skateboard later that week, putting their tent together on their camping trip with dad, selfies from concerts they snuck into, and tons of sunsets and scenic shots from the countless times they drove around just to escape the hellhole of Tokyo.

Sakura flopped facedown onto the pale blue comforter on top of her old twin bed. She slipped her shoes off, not moving from her face-plant on the bed, thanking her lucky stars that Hiro had plans.

He disappeared right after dropping her off. Again. She wasn't sure where or what he was up to, but right now, she was grateful for the silence. She rolled onto her back and stared blankly at the popcorn ceiling above and counted the revolutions of the fan blades.

What a day.

Mr. Li's face flashed in her mind, unbidden, and she cringed. Of course, she'd have the hottest teacher to ever grace a classroom, and of course, she managed to make him hate her twenty seconds into meeting her. Not that she blamed him. Her verbal diarrhoea was in full effect today. It wasn't all bad, though.

The rest of her classes were fucking hard – as to be expected – but it felt good. Really good. She was totally overwhelmed and out of her element, but at the same time, she felt like she was exactly where she belonged.

Meeting Eriol was a plus, too. Sakura padded out to the kitchen and snatched an ice cream out of the freezer. After she wolfed that down, she decided to call it a night. She peeled off her knee socks, skirt, and shirt and folded them carefully. She only had the one skirt and one extra shirt, so she would need to keep them as nice as she could for as long as she could.

She was too tired to even take a shower, so she threw on a big, white, cotton T-shirt – either Hiro's or her dad's – and hopped into bed.

She focussed on the sounds outside to distract her from her thoughts. She could hear the bass thumping from a car a few houses down, a group of teenage boys heckling each other, sirens in the distance, and the rhythm sounds of wheels on a skateboard hitting the cracks in the sidewalk.

And before long, the soundtrack of her city lulled her to sleep. She didn't know how long she had been asleep when she felt two strong arms around her and a nose nuzzling into her neck. Hiro.

Lately, he only slept with her when he was fucked up. She could smell the alcohol seeping through his skin, but somehow, it was still comforting.

"You can't leave me, Kura," he whispered into her ear, his voice as rough as his touch.

The desperation in his words broke her heart and reminded her of the wounded boy that he once was.

"You're almost done with high school." He continued, "And soon, you're going to go off to college and leave and leave us behind. I can't protect you if you're not here."

"Shh, it's okay," Sakura soothed him, rubbing his arm like she always did when he was like this and avoided the topic altogether.

She knew she shouldn't lead him on like this. She knew that this was going to blow up soon, but now – when he was drunk, vulnerable, and unstable – was not the time to serve him a healthy dose of reality. Sakura had the defusing the bomb that is Hiro down to an art form, and nothing she said right now would go over well. Not when he was in this state.

He squeezed her tighter, and a few minutes later when his breathing evened out and she knew he passed out, she succumbed to the security of his arms and drifted back to sleep.

* * *

Sakura reached blindly for her phone on her nightstand, knocking over a water bottle off in the process before she could finally feel the cool plastic of the case in her hand. She opened one eye and tried to focus on the time. Once her eyes adjusted, she sprung out of bed like it was on fire.

School started ten minutes ago.

Shit.

Why the hell didn't her alarm go off? She was kicking herself for not showering when she had the time last night. Sakura yelled Hiro's name on the way to the bathroom, but she didn't get a response. She brushed her teeth while she searched for him in the house. The place was a shoebox, so he shouldn't be hard to find.

"Hiro!" she yelled around a mouth full of toothpaste. "Where are you?"

She shoved his door open, only to find his empty bed. Jesus Christ. She was late for her second day of school.

She got dressed in record time and threw her unwashed hair into a messy fishtail braid. She swung her backpack over her shoulder and ran outside to see if by some miracle Hiro had got up early to work on his old school car that had been sitting on some blocks in the driveway for the past year.

Nope.

No such luck.

And even worse, his bike was gone. Today wasn't the day to fuck with her. It was way too late to catch the bus now. Sakura weighed her options in her head – all zero of them – when she heard the rumble of his motorbike in the distance.

Halle-fucking-lujah.

Hiro swung into the driveway and lifted one leg like he was about to get off his bike.

"No, no, no, don't you dare! I have to leave, like, five minutes ago! Where were you?" Sakura screeched, scrambling toward him.

"Back off, Kura, and get the fuck on. I had some shit to take care of early this morning. I'm fuckin' tired, and I don't got any patience for your tantrums right now."

Sakura didn't know what could have possibly gotten him out of bed before noon, short of the world ending, but she didn't have the time to hound him for answers. She snatched her new helmet off the old metal patio swing and hopped on behind Hiro.

He took off like a bat out of hell, and she was forced to hold his middle tighter. He weaved in and out of traffic and somehow managed not to get stuck behind one single red light. They pulled into the parking lot, and Sakura didn't know what time it was, but the horde of students outside told her that second period was about to begin. She thought Hiro was going to let her off, but much to her utter horror, he kept going. Straight for the fountain. Straight to where half the school still lingered.

He romped the sidewalk and slid to a stop parallel to the fountain, effectively creating a scene.

"Here you go, princess," he taunted.

Sakura rolled her eyes while she unbuckled her helmet and started to slide off, but his huge hand gripped her thigh, keeping her in place. Sakura arched an eyebrow in question.

"Say 'thanks', Kura."

"Thanks, Kura," she gritted through clenched teeth.

"Say it sweetly, baby doll," he insisted.

All eyes were on them, and to them, it probably looked like nothing more than a little PDA. But Hiro's hand squeezed her thigh so tightly that her eyes began to water. Who was this person?

"Hiro. Enough. I'm already late."

"Not until you thank me," he said with venom in his voice and pointed at his cheek.

Fuck this, she thought, and once again, tried to get off the bike.

His fingers crushed her leg, but it was his thumb digging into her inner thigh that caused her to cry out in pain.

"What the fuck, Hiro!" she practically screamed, and she was thankful that most of the other students had gone inside. The fear of being tardy trumped drama – yet, another different between Tokyo Private and Tokyo High School.

Hiro pointed to his face one more time with a malicious glint in his eye. He's an asshole, but Sakura had never known him to be cruel. This was not the Hiro she grew up with, and this new realisation hit her right in the stomach.

Gone is the boy who made her ramen and reluctantly let her tag along with him and his friends to the skate park, the boy that she idolised and worshipped. This was a stranger wearing her stepbrother's face. And this guy played by different rules, so she better adapt, fast.

She smacked a quick kiss on his cheek, but he gripped her chin in place and turned to plant his lips on hers. Sakura squealed and jerked back, but he simply laughed.

"Fuck you," she spat. She jumped off and scrambled toward the front doors.

She was almost inside when she heard him yell out, "Bummer about your alarm, Kura. You should be more careful next time!"

She never told him that her alarm didn't go off. That motherfucker.

After Sakura made a quick stop at the office for a late slip, she ran through the hall, not even stopping at her locker. Strands of hair came loose from the ride to school, and she rubbed the tears that were starting to dry on her face.

She was a mess.

She skidded to a stop in front of the door to Mr. Li's class and took a second to gain her composure. Every second she wasted was another second she was late. She took one deep breath and opened the door. Not one person looked up. No one, except for Mr. Li, of course. He scowled in her direction as Sakura duked her head down and scurried to her desk.

"Miss Kinomoto, a word?"

Fuck.

He was sitting at his desk while the rest of the class flipped through a packet of some sort. He was wearing a plain baby blue dress shirt and black slacks. His hair was pushed back off his face, and his eyebrows knitted together as he took her in.

His eyes seemed to soften for a fraction of a second, but then the severe expression was firmly back in place so quickly that she wondered if she was imaging it.

"I'm so sorry," she started. "About yesterday, and being late. It won't happen again," she promised.

He handed her a packet. "See that it doesn't," he bit out. "I don't tolerate tardiness. Now, today is a fresh start. Tell us something about yourself. You didn't get the chance yesterday."

Was he for real? This wasn't kindergarten. High schoolers didn't need to play ice-breaking games anymore. But the expectant look in his eyes told her that he was more than serious. And he was waiting for an answer.

"I, uh," she began, articulate as always. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I like to take pictures." This time more firmly.

Some kid mumbled something about nude photos under his breath, but Mr. Li either didn't hear or chose to ignore him.

"What kind of pictures?" he asked, seeming genuinely interested, and it threw Sakura a loop. Yesterday he was callous and aloof, and today he still seemed frosty, but almost human.

"I don't know." She shrugged. "Sad things. Beautiful things. Everything."

Mr. Li studied Sakura for long seconds before he jerked his head in the direction of her desk. She took that as her cue to take her seat. Once she was seated, sakura turned her attention to the papers in her hand. It was a syllabus.

Mr. Li stood up and walked the class through the outline for the year, and Sakura knew she was meant to be paying attention, but all she could focus on was the way his full lips moved when he spoke, the perfect amount of stubble on his face, and the casual way he ran a hand through his dark hair as he leaned a hip against his desk. He's such a fucking man. And even though it was clear that he had more class in his pinky finger than Sakura did in her entire body, she could just tell that deep down, he was a bad boy.

Or maybe a reformed bad boy.

But he reeked of sophistication and wealth. So, why was he a teacher?

Sakura's mind worked overtime trying to make sense of this dichotomy before finally settling on "does not compute". She wondered if he was married. She wondered what his wife would look like. Sakura hated her already. Then she imagined him and his perhaps non-existing wife rolling in bed, him eating her out while she tugged at his perfect hair, and Sakura crossed her legs, squeezing the soft damp fabric between her thighs.

Sakura's eyes roamed all over his body with shameless appreciation for the way his shirt hugged his chest and biceps. His sleeves were pushed up to the elbow and who knew forearms could be sexy?

She was perving on her teacher approximately two seconds after being manhandled by her pseudo stepbrother.

Seems legit.

Sakura shook those thoughts out of her head and attempted to focus on the words coming out of his mouth once more. When she looked up to his eyes, they were trained on her.

"Write down any questions and fill out the back page," he addressed the class, but he was still glaring in her direction.

His jaw hardened, and his eyes narrowed as they drifted down her body. Her heart was racing, and she felt her ears go hot under his attention. Sakura dragged her teeth across her bottom lip and crossed one leg over the other. His eyes weren't wavering from her legs, and his expression morphed into one of… anger?

Sakura glanced down and immediately knew exactly what he was looking at.

Fuck.

Hiro left a little present in the shape of his goddamn hand on her thigh. It was bright red, and four obvious finger marks left little question as to what made them. Sakura tugged her skirt down and shifted in her seat, hating that he was thinking of her as some helpless victim.

Sakura avoided eye contact for the rest of the class, and when the bell rang, she practically ran toward the exit. But Mr. Li couldn't make anything easy for her.

"Kinomoto, hang back. I need a word." There was no question in his voice.

Sakura froze in place, not wanting to defy him, but definitely not wanting to stay behind and face him. Sakura was a street-smart girl. Maybe she hadn't seen it all, but she has seen most of it, and God knows, she has dealt with a lot of people. Scarier people than Mr. Li. But somehow, he scared her more than any of the criminals and creeps she has encountered over the years.

It didn't make any sense.

She turned on her heels and stared him straight in the eye, because even though she was uncomfortable around him, it wasn't in her nature to let this kind of thing show.

"Yes, Mr. Li?" There was a bite to her tone. She couldn't hide it. She wasn't sure if she even wanted to.

His hands were tucked inside the pockets of his black dress pants, he was standing at his full, impressive height, and his eyes glided up her body, from her toes to her head, halting briefly on her thighs. Sakura sucked in a breath and closed her eyes.

 _Goddamnit, Hiro_.

"Riddle me this." He took a step in her direction, rounding his desk, and her heart was in her throat.

Danger rolled off him, and she didn't know how to stop her body from responding to his. Because it was there. The electricity. The attraction. The lust. She couldn't be the only one who felt it. It felt too big to be one-sided. How pathetic would that be if she was the only one who burned under her clothes.

Mr. Li continued, "Yesterday, when I saw you for the first time, you appeared to be in good shape, except for the shoes, of course. Today, I found something different. You're a smart girl, so you don't need me to spell it out for you. Tell me, Miss Kinomoto, is there a reason to worry about your safety?"

Sakura gulped and looked away so he didn't have to see what was in her eyes. She wasn't even sure what was in there herself. Fear? Desire? Anxiety? All she knew was that she needed to get out of there, fast.

"No need to worry." She shook her head. "May I be excused now?"

"No, you may not." His voice was so cold, it provided little comfort to the scorching hot waves he seemed to be making inside her body. "What happened? Explain. With words. Preferably an adequate amount for me to make an educated decision on whether to call social services."

"Funny you should say that, you use so little," Sakura whipped out without even meaning to. She had to stop that. Taunting him like that, like they were equals.

Mr. Li lifted a lone eyebrow, a ghost of a smirk found his perfect lips. "Miss Kinomoto," he warned, his ice-cold tone licked at her burning flesh. "You're not getting out of here until you explain."

"I got into a fight with my kitchen drawer handle," she said dumbly. "I lost."

Sakura let the lie roll from her tongue, and Mr. Li's expression told her that he didn't believe her for even a second.

"Put your palm flat against the mark," he ordered.

Her first thought was, _fuck_ , he knew that it was a handprint. Her second thought was even more alarming. His demanding tone was turning her on. She chanced a glance at him, and his eyes were half-mast, so she knew she wasn't the only one who was feeling it. Feeling this. That thought hit her like a ton of bricks. Mr. Li was a grown man, and she affected him. And suddenly, putting her hand on her thigh didn't seem so bad.

Maybe she would put those morals of his to the test. She did as she was told, not breaking eye contact with him. She didn't need to look down to find the mark because it was still searing, even after all this time. His eyes rolled down – slowly, she didn't fail to notice – until they stopped.

Starting just above her knee, she slowly traced her black fingernails upward, bunching her skirt up her thigh in the process. She laid her hand flat on the mark, not giving away the fact that it still stung to touch.

His throat bobbed on a swallow, and he looked up. "Are you going to make a habit out of lying to me, Miss Kinomoto?" He stepped toward Sakura, backing her into her desk.

She sat perched on the edge with her skirt still bunched. She had the urged to push him further, to spread her legs, and to let him see what he did to her.

"Are you going to keep asking me questions I can't provide the answer to?" she asked honestly, letting her skirt fall back into place. "I'm a big girl. I've been taking care of myself for a long time now."

He took his final step toward her, erasing the space between them, and now she could see him and smell him and feel him. So help her God, she needed to keep her knees from buckling and see this thing through, because he made her want things. Things she shouldn't want to do with her teacher. Things a girl shouldn't ever want to do at all.

"That's the problem," he hissed. "I'll be keeping an eye on you, Miss Kinomoto. I'm trusting you here. If something happened to you, and I failed to report it, well, I'm sure I don't have to tell you how bad that would be for the both of us."

"Thank you," Sakura said curtly, because apparently, she was done acting like a brat for the day. "But there is no need."

"On the contrary." He turned around, sending one last look on her thigh.

She didn't need to ask if she was excused. She knew that if I didn't leave his class now, she would be doing something that they'll both regret. So, she turned around toward the door, taking tentative steps, both afraid that he would stop her and that he wouldn't.

He didn't stop her.

He let her go.

And he should. Because he was her fucking teacher. But a second before the door closed behind her, she heard him say, "There won't be a next time, Miss Kinomoto. Not to your tardiness, not to talking back to your educator, and not to putting on your little show. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," she swallowed as she shut the door behind her and rested the back of her head on its window, closing her eyes.

Holy.

Fuck.

* * *

 **s1983079**

This story is rated M now. I made a mistake yesterday by rating it T. There will be sexual content in this story and clearly, there are certain taboos in this story. If you don't like those, then don't read it. I don't want to hear anyone complaining about certain relationships or about how wrong it is.

Thanks for following and reviewing.

Guest - Eriol isn't a hippy, he's gay. There's some insight to Syaoran here and why he was pissed.

Guest - Hiro is written this way to make you feel uncomfortable. I'm glad you are. He doesn't get any better. It was originally first person, present tense but I changed it because third person, past tense is more popular in fanfiction. I'll go back and try to fix any mistakes this weekend, sorry.

Monstar xo - Thanks. I think it's a lot darker than anything else on here currently but as a result of that, everyone is out of character.. woops lol

effybelle - Thanks. I think a lot of people would be put off by the subject and writing style but it's nice to know someone enjoys it.


	4. Her Business

**Chapter 4: Her Business**

Syaoran popped open the back of his car and took out the paper bags of groceries. He had to take them all the way to the fifth floor, like he did every month.

He knocked and the person on the other side didn't answer, but that was nothing new. He didn't give a damn. He kicked the old door open, which was easy because the building was rotten and everything was decaying, including his sanity, and walked into the apartment. The person who lived there didn't greet him, but she'll come out once she was sure it was just Syaoran, and for just a couple hours, he'll feel close to Meiling again.

Arranging the peanut butter and jam and bread and pickles on the shelves – Meiling's diet consisted of that of a four-year-old mixed with pregnancy cravings – he heard the bedroom door creaking open.

"Syaoran? Syaoran, baby, is that you?" Her tentative voice followed by a deep cough punctuated the question as she made her way to the peeling kitchen in her ratty slippers. He turned around and leaned his waist against the counter, folding his arms on his chest and took her in. Meiling was in her early thirties, but she might as well be sixty. She was beautiful once, but drugs, alcohol, and _life_ ruined her.

"Who else were you expecting? The Queen?" He quirked a brow, and she laughed and coughed, tucking strands of greasy hair behind her ear. She clasped him into a hug which he accepted, for no other reason than the fact that Meiling was his sister's best friend.

"You look good, kid," she said. If teaching high school girls has taught him one thing, it was that he was easy on the eyes. Young girls with crushes can be dangerous, so he laid low and stayed as his asshole self. It seemed to be working fine so far.

Things got really difficult when Fuutie left him. He would say 'left us', but it was him she left, really. His parents stopped giving two fucks the minute she failed to bet he person they wanted her to be. They cut off her cash flow and let her fend for herself instead of helping her with her addiction. For Syaoran, it wasn't that simple. Maybe because his parents were always so busy with keeping up appearances and their precious careers, they didn't make the time to actually parent him or get to know him, but Fuutie did. Fuutie took him to martial arts classes twice a week and tried – but failed – to make him birthday cakes every year and mothered him more than his mother ever did. Now that she was gone, a part of him was, too. A part he missed and would really fucking appreciate having back.

"Thank you," he said, exhaling harshly and grabbing a garden chair – the cheap kind you get for a buck at the Dollar shop –which is a part of her dining area. Syaoran plopped down on it, threw his head back, and closed his eyes on a sigh.

"I miss her," he said.

"I miss her, too." Meiling put a hand on her shoulder. "They say it gets better."

"They lie." He sucked his teeth. He heard her laugh, but there was nothing happy about it.

"You're still so young and successful, Syaoran. I may not know much about life." She laughed bitterly. "Hell, I don't even know if I'll make it to next month, but I do know you can be happy again. Put this all behind you and live your life before another life is wasted. Maybe find a girl. Have a family of your own one day. Don't you want that for yourself?"

That was the saddest part for him. Women didn't occupy his thoughts. Not for more than one night at a time, anyway. He had no recollection of showing interest in more than a warm body to spend the night with in the last few years. Sakura's face flashed in his mind, and he shut it down as fast as came. He didn't even know her, but he found her fascinating. It was like watching a car crash. She was spectacular in a sad, beautiful way. He knew there was more lurking behind those big, green eyes. Luckily, he wasn't crazy and self-destructive enough to ever find out.

"Thanks for the tip, Mum," he bit out, and that awarded him a light punch to the shoulder. "What about you, Mei?" Don't _you_ want that? How is what you're doing to yourself any different?" Her eyes glazed over with tears that she tried to conceal as she focussed on the piece of lint on her pants.

"You forgot my cigarettes," Meiling said, avoiding his question altogether.

"I didn't forget. Those things will kill you," he retorted, even though he knew that he found himself smoking more in the past few days than he did in his entire life. Smoking was Meiling's least dangerous vice. They always went through the motions of this conversation. He would most definitely go get her cigarettes. And he would do so because he knew she'd be waiting upstairs, taking out the old albums of her and her late best friend – Fuutie – and she would tell him all about their adventures in being young and wild and free. Then, he would question her about Hiro's whereabouts, and she'd deny him. If he was lucky, she'd inadvertently give him another small piece to the puzzle.

"Three cigarette packets. Soft kind. It's crucial."

"They're going to kill you."

"No, baby. The drugs will."

"Is that the goal? To die? If so, you're right on track." He finally got up from the chair.

"At least I'm good at something."

Syaoran decided to walk to the gas station a few blocks away. It was a rough part of town, but he actually liked it. The streets felt real. In downtown Tokyo, it almost felt like nothing bad could touch you with its secluded, gated communities. Which was, of course, bullshit. A lot of bad things touched him. Touched Meiling. They left marks. The permanent kind. Just because you couldn't see them, doesn't mean they're not there.

He rounded the corner when he heard the exhaust of bikes behind him. He tuned it out and pushed open the door. The overhead bell dinged. A large, sleepy guy with a curly black ponytail lifted his head from a magazine and picked his nose as he followed Syaoran's movements behind the counter.

"Three packs of cigarettes, soft." He pointed at what he needed. He decided to cut his visit with Meiling short this week. He was in the mood for fucking. To blow off some steam. Especially after today. The fucker who left an imprint to last a few weeks on Sakura Kinomoto's thigh had been occupying his thoughts. Hurting women was not Syaoran's style. In or out of bed Hurting people who hurt women, however, was something he was completely open to.

Especially as he knew exactly who he was, and he wanted to do a lot of things about it, but none of them would benefit her. Or him, for that matter. He needed to be patient and play his cards right.

He still didn't know what role he played in her life, and reporting this to Headmaster Ayase would drag her into a lot of drama that he was certain that she didn't need. But he couldn't, in good conscience, turn a blind eye.

The cashier rung him up, and he grabbed his stuff. Just as he turned around, he bumped into a shoulder.

Speak of the devil.

Hiro Matsuwa, AKA Sakura Kinomoto's ride, is looking Syaoran right in the eye. He stared at him hard but impassive, his face wasn't giving away one damn thing. They held each other's stare far too long for it to be a coincidence, until someone in a leather cut without a shirt underneath and holey jeans grabbed onto his shoulder and pulled him away.

"C'mon, Hiro. We have shit to do. Let's get outta here."

Syaoran wanted to kill him for doing what he did, and not just to his sister, but he found himself helpless. For now. Just for now.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" Syaoran lifted his chin up and inspected him. This part was crucial for him, because he needed to know how to proceed with Hiro Matsuwa. Hiro didn't say a thing, just looked at Syaoran like he was speaking a foreign language. If he recognised him, he didn't let on.

 _What the hell was wrong with this guy?_

"Doubt it," Hiro snorted. "I don't go to no country club."

"I'm Sakura Kinomoto's teacher, Syaoran Li," he spelled it out for Hiro himself, because there was no way this Neanderthal was going to connect the dots without a little help. Hiro gave him a slow once-over, assessing the situation, and his forehead crumpled.

"Oh, yeah? I'm Hiro," he spat out, not offering his hand.

"A family friend?" Syaoran feigned ignorance.

" _Step_ brother," he clarified, adding emphasis on the word _step_ as if that made a difference. "I also own her."

"You do?" Syaoran smiled casually. "And here I thought that was illegal since the 19th century." Of course, the idiot didn't get the refence and stared at Syaoran blankly.

"She's mine," he said again, slow this time, taking a step in Syaoran's direction. Syaoran made no move. The asshole didn't intimidate him. "Make sure you remember that." He delivered the threat directly to Syaoran's face, the veins in his neck popping.

"I'm her teacher." Syaoran bypassed him with an easy smile, unaffected. "I will make sure my students make it through the year healthy and safe, no matter the consequences." The edge in his tone didn't leave room for doubt. He was returning the threat. "It's literally my job."

Before he came back with another idle threat – men like him always needed the last word – Syaoran walked out of the gas station, his hands clutching the plastic bag.

Syaoran went straight to Meiling's house, only staying for half an hour this time. He left out the part about his new connection to Hiro – though, he wasn't sure why – and completed his mission for the night. He made a short trip to the bar, picked up a random woman, made use of the condom in his wallet, and ended his night in bed alone, smoking and staring at the ceiling.

Hiro Matsuwa. He now had a way to get to him, and he will.

He was going to pay. Syaoran was going to make sure of it.

* * *

Hiro had never been accused of being reasonable or rational, but tonight, he seemed to be taking his unstable behaviour to a whole new level. Sakura didn't know what climbed up his ass, but she could practically hear the time bomb ticking. Sakura was lying on her stomach on the cold kitchen tiles, attempting to cool off while doing her English homework. Hiro wouldn't let her turn the air-conditioning any lower. Her hair was sticking to her neck, and even in a spaghetti strap tank top and a pair of hot pink sleep shorts, she was still on fire. Between the head, Hiro's angry stare, and his leg bouncing in place, focus wasn't coming easy.

"Somethin' on your mind, Hiro?" She huffed, rolling onto one elbow to meet his eyes.

"You runnin' your mouth, Kura?" he snapped back.

 _What the hell was he talking about_.

"Not any more than usual," she quipped.

He nodded bitterly and took a swig of his beer.

"Funny, your _teacher_ says otherwise."

Hiro stood and slowly walked toward her, and Sakura scrambled to get out of the vulnerable position on the floor. She stood with the counter at her back and straightened her shoulders. For the first time in a long time, she didn't only hope – but prayed – that her dad would come home sooner rather than later from Tomoeda.

"I don't know what you're–" She was cut off by Hiro slamming his beer bottle against the cabinets above her head. It broke, dousing her shoulders with lukewarm liquid and bits of shattered glass. She flinched so hard that she slipped in the beer that was puddled at her bare feet, but Hiro squeezed her bicep to keep her upright.

"Don't _fucking lie to me!_ " Hiro screamed, and his spit landed on her cheek. Sakura's eyes were wide with fear, but it wasn't for herself. It was for Hiro. With each passing day, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the fact that something was seriously wrong with him. And she didn't know how to fix it.

"Are you fucking him, Kura? Is that how you got into that fancy ass school of yours? Well, if you're selling your ass, then I should at least get a family discount," he sneered, grabbing her waist and squeezing. Not lightly either.

"Do you even hear yourself? There are so many things wrong with this conversation. You're not making any sense, Hiro." She pushed him away, and this time, she wasn't nice either. His eyes softened briefly before turning cold again.

"You keep your mouth shut about me. I don't need any extra attention right now. Don't need anybody breathing down my neck." He brought his fists to the cabinets, boxing her in. "Your pretty boy teacher isn't gonna save you, Kura." You and me – we were meant for this life. We'll never be good enough for people like them. It's time you get used to it. Don't let that pretty head of yours get filled with sweet sounding lies. I am your truth, baby. It's just you and me."

Sakura gave him a short nod, and he stormed off and slammed the metal screen against the frame. Once she heard his bike fade off into the distance, she let her tears fall. She cried for herself, because a part of her still believed Hiro when he said she was meant for this life. And she cried for Hiro. For the boy he was, and the man he won't get to become. This town was poison that seeped through the veins of everyone who lived here. And the only antidote was getting out.

Hiro was too far gone, she can see it now. And a part of her was scared he wouldn't make it out alive.

A part of her was scared that it was already too late.

* * *

Hiro and Sakura didn't say a word to each other the entire day. She was too pissed at how he treated her, and Hiro was just, well, pissed in general. When he called out Sakura after dropping her off at school, she thought maybe he would apologise, but instead, she got a stern reminder to keep her mouth shut.

Now, Sakura was in second period where she was shooting daggers with her eyes at Mr. Li for the past forty minutes. With each passing second, she become progressively irate at him for interfering. She didn't even know what went down with him and Hiro, but it was clear that she couldn't trust him.

Blinded by sheer hatred – hatred that was dipped in lust, slightly coated by something feral, and completely heady – she didn't even realise that he was talking to her until his voice became a low, pissed-off growl.

"Miss Kinomoto, I asked you a question."

Sakura straightened her spine, military-sharp and tilted her chin up. "I apologise, Mr. Li," she said robotically, and saw his features melt into confusion at her tone. "I'm afraid I didn't hear that. Can you kindly repeat?"

She wasn't going to let him ruin this for her. She was going to get out of this place, with or without Mr. Li's help. It's a mathematics class, for fuck's sake. She was acing everything else so far. She just needed to survive this man for the rest of the year.

Before he could continue, the bell rang, and students got up from their seats, chairs scraping and books snapping shut. Sakura flipped her hair over her shoulder as she bent down to grab her backpack, but a pair of chestnut leather shoes attached to long, lean legs covered in dark denim stopped her in her tracks. She paused almost infinitesimally and returned to the task at hand. Sakura stood, swung her bag over one shoulder, and attempted to move past him. Mr. Li sidestepped and blocked her, their fronts nearly bumping. Sakura rolled her eyes and pivoted on her feet to walk the other way, but he grabbed her wrists, causing her to freeze in place. Adrenaline coursed through her at his touch, and she shook out of his grasp.

They were alone. In class. He wanted to corner her again, but this time, she was going to get the upper hand.

"Sakura. Stop." He said her first name for the first time with an air of authority that had her belly flipping with desire. She turned around and painted her face with indifference.

"We've got to stop meeting like this, _Mr. Li_ ," she said, biting her bottom lip. "Wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea."

"Cut the nonsense. What's going on with you today?" His brows were wrinkled, like he honestly didn't know that he made her life significantly more complicated by one little conversation.

"You think you know me well enough after a few days to make that assessment? Well, you don't. I'm not some project for you to fix up to make you feel better about yourself. And I'd appreciate it if you stayed out of my business." Sakura could get reprimanded for speaking to a faculty member like this, but she couldn't stop herself. All she wanted to do was keep a low profile, graduate, and get into a decent fucking university anywhere but here.

"What do you want from me?" Sakura asked, moving in even closer. "Huh? What's your game?"

Mr. Li dropped his head back, and he sighed at the ceiling, hands on his hips.

He didn't know. He didn't fucking know what he wanted from her. Or if he did, he'd sure as hell not admit it to himself.

He was making her crazy. There was no other way to explain her next move. Maybe it was retaliation for him butting into her business. Maybe it was just an excuse to ruffle his feathers. But even as she did the unthinkable, the unimaginable, she still didn't regret it. Not even with one bone in her body.

She took a step in his direction and placed her hand over the first button of her crisp dress shirt, toying with it.

"Do you want this?" she parted her lips, her eyes dropping to his mouth. "Hmm? Is that it?"

Syaoran took a step back immediately, and she released the button, exposing milky skin and a hint of cleavage. If she released the next one, he was going to see the valley of her fat, heavy tits that were secured by nothing but her tattered home brand bra.

"Miss Kinomoto," he warned, but she knew enough about Syaoran by now to know that this warning didn't hold the usual authority. He knew he should stop her, and he was, but his attempt was half-assed at best.

Her finger slid down to the second button, and she took another step in his direction. He took another step back. They tangoed. She didn't know if she was fucking with him to show him that she was dangerous, that he should just leave her be, or because she was desperate for his reaction. His attention. God, his everything.

"You didn't answer my question, Mr. Li." She popped free the second button, and her pushed-up tits were staring at him now, daring him to look at them. He didn't. His eyes became hooded, and his nostrils flared.

"I didn't answer because I don't want to insult you. Would you really like an answer to your question?"

"Yes." Sakura licked her lips, taking another step, and this time, he didn't even realise that he stopped walking backwards. They were almost chest-to-chest now, and she knew how it would look if someone opened the door. He did, too, because he folded his arms over his chest and tilted his chin up, his stance guarded and stiff. So unlike his usual self-assured posture. Good thing it was lunchtime, or students would already be pouring in.

"I'm not interested in high school girls, Miss Kinomoto."

"I think we both know I'm not your typical teenager, _Teach_ ," she retorted. She was pushing it, big time, but she wanted to see how far she could take this without getting her ass thrown into detention, or worse.

"Call me Teach one more time…" His face got into hers, and hell, she saw it. In his pupils. They were burning.

Yes, she was not imaging this.

This was mutual. This was _magic_.

"And what?" she smiled, shamelessly pushing her chest between them. "And what exactly are you going to do about it?" Her voice turned cold in a second. "Stay out of my personal life. I will be the best student I can, Mr. Li, but you don't get to talk to my stepbrother and stir chaos in my life." She threw the words in his face.

"I wasn't stirring anything, Sakura. I was merely dropping a very subtle warning." His lips were thin. She wasn't sure who was scarier, him or Hiro. They were intimidating in very different ways. And lookie here, he referred to her by her first name again.

"I can take care of myself."

"I beg to differ. Look at your thigh."

"Maybe you should _stop_ looking at it, Mr. Li. Your job is to educate me, not to ogle me." She just went there.

"That's rich coming from the woman who's throwing herself at her teacher," he whiplashed quickly.

"So now you admit that I'm a woman?" She smiled sweetly, twirling a lock of chestnut hair around her finger, putting on a stupid show that he could see right through.

That awarded her with a simle, the first genuine smile she had ever seen from Mr. Li. Funny, she didn't even notice that he didn't really smile until this moment. But it was glorious and beautiful, and she wanted this smile to be only for her.

"You should be a lawyer, Miss Kinomoto," he said darkly, motioning with his head to the door, excusing her. "You'd be dangerous."

"I'm in the right school then." She shrugged her backpack onto her shoulder and walked away. He collapsed in the chair by his desk behind her and sighed.

"You're in the right school, but you're definitely the wrong kind of student."

* * *

"What's up with Mr. Li?" Eriol asked as he slung an arm around Sakura's shoulder on their way to the cafeteria. Sakura snorted and hitched one shoulder up.

"What do you mean?"

"He kept you after class. _Again_." He wiggled his perfectly shaped eyebrows.

"Ugh," she growned as she tossed his arm off of her. "He has it out for me. Not sure why." Sakura liked Eriol a lot, but the less people she had knowing her business, the better.

"Ah-uh," he said, unconvinced.

"Miss Kinomoto." She recognised Headmaster Ayase's curt voice and looked up to see her down the hall, heading toward her. Jesus Christ, she couldn't catch a break in this place.

"I expect you'll have the proper shoe wear by next week?" Sakura glanced down at her Vans that she has made exactly zero effort to replace.

"Working on it!" she promised.

"Very good."

"Looks like Mr. Li isn't the only one who has it out for you," Eriol whispered into her ear after Headmaster Ayase passed.

"Shut up." Sakura laughed and bumped his shoulder with her own.

The cafeteria hall wasn't crowded or noisy like Tokyo High School. God, even social hour was quiet for these people.

How boring.

Eriol headed straight for the food line. Sakura didn't have lunch money today, so she pretended that she wasn't hungry. Eriol didn't buy it, but he didn't press her either. Once they were seated, he tossed a roll in her direction.

"I said I wasn't hungry," Sakura said, catching it with one hand.

"Gotta keep that booty ripe, Saks," he mused.

"You're an idiot."

"And you're stubborn. Are you really not going to tell me why he's kept you after class for two days in a row?"

"Can you keep it down?" Sakura hissed, her eyes darting around to gauge whether they had any eavesdroppers. "There's nothing to tell."

"Then I guess you're not interested in the rumours about him," Eriol teased.

"I wouldn't go that far. Show me yours and I'll show you mine?" Sakura batted her eyelashes exaggeratedly.

"I don't usually play this game with girls," he drawled. "But for you, I'll make an exception. Spill it."

Taking a deep breath, she decided that there was no harm in telling Eriol about Hiro. For one, judging by his reaction to him the other day, she was sure he already suspected something. And two, she just didn't see Eriol as the malicious type.

"My stepbrother is going through some stuff. He got a little rough with me the other day, and Mr. Li noticed. He just wanted to make sure I was safe. Sort of part of the job description, you know?"

Eriol shook his head. "I knew something was off with that guy."

"Seriously, Eriol, I've lived with him for most of my life. He's not a threat. He's…struggling," she reiterated.

"Doesn't matter, babe. Don't be that girl. Don't make excuses for him."

"Listen, I'm not an idiot. I know Hiro, and he's not dangerous."

Even as she said the words, she wondered if that was still true.

"Your turn," she reminded him, taking a bite out of the softest roll she had ever had in her entire life.

"Okay, here's what I know. His first name is Syaoran."

Syaoran. She never knew a name could be sexy, but she stood corrected. He looks like a Syaoran. All dapper with a side of darkness.

"Twenty-nine years old," he continued. "Perpetually single, but never lacking female companions. He was teaching in China, but came here a couple years ago. Then, in the middle of the year, he left. He never came back," he said, pausing for dramatic effect. "Until now," he added thoughtfully. "That's all I know."

"You got all of this information in less than a week? I don't even know the school's mascot, and you have everyone's life story."

"People like me." He shrugged. "It's a gift."

The warning bell rang, and they both stood.

"Sharks," he said.

"Huh?" Sakura asked dumbly.

"Tokyo Private Sharks. That's our mascot." He winked.

"Noted." She laughed. "I'll be sure to file that under Things I Don't Give a Flying Fuck About."

* * *

 **s1983079**

Guest - I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thank you.

Monstar . xo - More Li and Hiro here. Thank you.

Guest - Many crazy things to come. Thank you.

LM - I hope this was soon for you. Thank you.


	5. Memories

**Warning: This chapter contains references to drug abuse, death and taboo relationships. Do not read if these topics offend you.**

 **Chapter 5: Memories**

 _Tick, tick, tick._

 _She said her boyfriend is a ticking time bomb. That she never knew how he was going to show up. Nice and charming, or drunk and violent. Syaoran told her that that was what she got for dating a junkie and a drug dealer. She didn't listen. Fuutie never listened._

 _The thing about his older sister was that she could be his parent and a child at the very same time. Like before she died, when he saw her lying in a pool of her own vomit in the apartment that she shared with her roommate, Miyu, all Syaoran wanted to do was throw her into the bathtub, find the idiot who gave her the drugs, and finish him off._

 _"_ _What was his name?" Syaoran took her by the arm and lead her to the bathroom. He wished he could've taken her home with him, but she wouldn't have come. He wished he could've staged an intervention, but his parents didn't want anything to do with her anymore and they'd never be there again. Standing there, by himself, pleading her to take care of herself, was the only reminder to the fact that no one else cared but him._

 _"_ _He's the best." Fuutie smiled to herself as he turned on the faucet and peeled her out of her reeking clothes. She complied. A brother should never see his sister naked. Not at this age, anyway. "He is really sweet, Syao. He is."_

 _"_ _Yeah? Somehow I doubt that. He sold you the drugs?"_

 _She shook her head. "Gave it to me for free. I'm sampling for him."_

 _"_ _You're sampling drugs for him?" Syaoran repeated her words, dumbfounded. The worst part was that she was a smart girl. Smart girls, he learned with time and experience, sometimes do very stupid things for men. Fuutie ran away from Hong Kong after she went to university. She had a degree and spoke five languages. She could've been a very successful, very happy woman, if she wanted to be. But she didn't. Instead, she followed me to Tokyo and let herself get caught up with the wrong people._

 _The wrong lifestyle._

 _What she wanted was to defy their parents. And what she failed to understand was that they weren't wired the same way as they were. They cut all ties to her and moved on. They didn't care enough to raise them. Why would they care enough to look after them when they were grown?_

 _"_ _Rehab," Syaoran said, throwing her clothes to the trash. There was no point in washing them. He'd just buy her new ones. They were two times too big, anyway. Fuutie had become rail thin and scarily bony the last couple of months. She was fading, and it physically hurt him to watch. "You need to go to rehab, or I'll go back to Hong Kong and cut all ties. I mean it, Fuutie."_

 _"_ _Sure." She laughed. "Leave me. Just like them. It's not like I raised you."_

 _"_ _You did raise me," he agreed. "You raised me and now it's my turn to take care of you. Something that's a little hard to do when you're hellbent on destroying yourself."_

 _She laughed more hysterically, bordering on maniacal. Syaoran threw her into the bath, and it was ice-cold, and she deserved it._

 _"_ _I hate you!" she screamed, spitting in his face. He stared at her through levelled eyes._

 _"_ _That's fine. Give me his address," he said. He was ready to do something stupid, but he didn't even care anymore._

 _"_ _No." She crossed her arms over her chest, sitting in the full bath like a toddler._

 _"_ _Fuutie."_

 _"_ _No!"_

 _"_ _Fuck!" He punched the tiles._

 _"_ _You won't take him from me!" she yelled._

 _"_ _Oh, we'll see about that."_

* * *

Hiro Matsuwa.

Syaoran was sitting in his car, staring at him from across the road as he worked, bare-chested, on his motorcycle. Syaoran had pulled Sakura Kinomoto's address from the contact list online, and he did just so he could see where he lived. It had nothing to do with Sakura and her advances, though he knew that, logically, at some point he would need to make sure that she knew that she couldn't pull that kind of stunt again.

It wasn't about Sakura – not in the way Sakura wanted it to be about Sakura – and she needed to know that. But he had plenty of time to clarify that to her. Right now, he was more interested in Hiro.

Taking into consideration the fact that his car was probably going to stand out in this neighbourhood, he parked around the corner of the street, where Hiro couldn't see. But Syaoran could definitely see him and his inked chest glistening with sweat. The asshole didn't look bad, and for some reason, that bothered Syaoran. The images of him touching and doing things to Fuutie morphed into ones of him with Sakura, and the thought stirred something in him that he never knew existed.

He wanted revenge. Justice.

But he didn't know the whole story, and it was killing him.

Sakura Kinomoto isn't emancipated, but he sure as hell didn't know if her father or mother was around either. A Fuujitaka Kinomoto signed every single school document for her. He assumed that that was her father, but he didn't know how present he was. For all he knew, Hiro was the only consistent person in her life.

That didn't deter Syaoran from hunting him down and bringing justice to his sister's case, but for some reason, it gave him pause.

Beyond the tough exterior, Sakura Kinomoto was a teenager girl who still needed to be taken care of, and he reluctantly recognised that.

Syaoran was about to kick his vehicle into drive and leave. This was obviously a mistake. Stalking Hiro Matsuwa wasn't going to do him any good. If anything, it was just going to make him angrier about his inability to act on his desire to throw him into a cell. He knew where he was now. That was the only important thing.

His hand was on the console, and he twisted his head to see that the road was clear when he heard her voice and still.

"Dinner's ready, Hiro. Get your ass inside."

She jumped the three steps down from her door to the yard, wearing an oversized shirt – and just the thought of it being his has him clenching his jaw – her bare, naked legs are long, and her brown, wavy hair was flying everywhere from the hot wind. He shouldn't look. He didn't want to look. His gaze drifted to the house next door, but then she spoke again.

"Hiro, I need a favour, and I really need you not to be crappy about it."

Syaoran could see her from his peripheral standing slighting above Hiro, and he was peering down toward her shirt where her undergarments should be. He wanted to kill him and found his eyes following them again. It wasn't the fact that he was looking down Miss Kinomoto's shirt that bothered him. At least that was what he told himself. It was the fact that he saw her as another victim. Just like Fuutie.

"What do you need?" Hiro asked, his muscles flexing. Idiot. He was trying to seduce his stepsister, and for all Syaoran knew, he might've already succeeded.

"Money for new shoes. I know you said you picked up some extra shifts at the shop…"

That actually made Syaoran snort. If she really thought that her stepbrother held a legitimate job, then she was dead wrong. He had been trying to find him everywhere in Tokyo ever since Fuutie died to no avail. Tokyo was the perfect place to disappear. All the lights, parties, tourists, and temptation. He did a great job.

Until now.

"What's wrong with your shoes?" Hiro put his hands on his hips, scanning her legs.

He stared at her in a way that Syaoran could easily decode, even from across the street. He knew this look because he sometimes gave it to women, two seconds before he ripped off their underwear with his teeth.

"They have a dress code at Tokyo Private." She shrugged, moving her fingers through her hair. "Headmaster Ayase has been bugging me about it. You know how they are. Stuck up and all."

"Well, money is tight this month."

"I thought you said you're going to buy a new toy hauler to go spend the summer in the countryside." She cleared her throat, and Syaoran's heart broke. It shouldn't, but it did. This girl was a far cry from the brazen one that was in his class.

"You keeping tabs on me?" Hiro asked, pushing his chest toward her. It reminded him how she pushed her chest to him earlier today. He was a little taken aback at how bold she was, but he didn't take into consideration the fact that it was all she knew. She doesn't know subtle. Wouldn't know it even if it hit her on the head.

"Not keeping tabs, Hiro. Just trying not to get into too much trouble at my new school."

"Maybe you should get in trouble," Hiro retorted. "That way you can stay here and quit eating up all those fantasies about leaving they've been feeding you there. I know your game, Kura. Know it well."

 _Kura_.

"Dinner's getting cold," she snapped, turning around and heading back into the shack they call home. Syaoran drove away, straight to the nearest mall.

Three, four, five pairs of smart, black-laced Oxford shoes in a few different sizes, just to be sure.

They'll be waiting in her locker first thing in the morning.

Miss Kinomoto was not going to end up like his sister did. Syaoran was going to make sure of that.

* * *

"Well, hello, Cinderella." Eriol pretended to bow down for Sakura when she met him in the hallway, stuffing her textbooks into her locker and throwing it shut. She huffed, rolling her eyes. This day couldn't get any worse.

"You heard," she deadpanned.

"I don't think there's a soul on campus who hasn't heard yet." Eriol is matching her steps, and he looked extra bouncy today. His smile extra wide. "So, who is the secret admirer?"

"Maybe it's not an admirer. Maybe it's a joke at my expense because I'm not fucking loaded like everyone else." She shrugged, stretching her toes inside her beat-up Vans. Whether it was a way to taunt her or not, she didn't care. She refused to wear them. When she got into school this morning, an arsenal of new shoes waited inside her locker. She wasn't going to lie. She was tempted to try them on, but her pride – and general mistrust of basically everyone here besides Eriol – wouldn't let her. Unfortunately, a few students roaming the hallway caught a glimpse of it, and word got out that someone bought her shoes. She became a charity case. The one thing she refused to ever be.

"Whatever. Look at you. You're a head turner." Eriol smiled, stopping by his locker and twisting the lock until it popped open. He checked his phone discreetly, and like the nosy bitch she was, Sakura peeked over his shoulder.

"What the hell is that?" She screeched, reaching for it with her hand, but Eriol was faster.

"Saks!" he barked.

"What?" She laughed, because he was blushing, and she didn't think it was even possible for him to get flustered by anything. "Please tell me that was a dick pic."

"It's nothing." He looked down to his shoes.

"Why are you acting so embarrassed? Eriol Hiiragizawa, you are _blushing_!" He rolled his eyes. "Is this, like, a random Grindr guy, or are you seeing someone?"

"I'm _talking_ to someone."

"A secret someone?" she hedged, leaning closer, her ears perking up. He nodded looking somewhat defeated. Sakura's smile disappeared, melting into a frown.

"Someone who is still in the closet," she guessed.

No response. Oh, that _is_ juicy, but also not any of her business. The only part she really hated about this whole conversation is the fact that Eriol didn't confide in her. She gave him all the information about Hiro, so she thought maybe he'd open up for her, too. But then, to be completely honest, she didn't tell him the whole truth about Mr. Li or her little act from the other day either, so she couldn't be too mad.

"Okay, we don't have to talk about it." She patted his arm awkwardly. "Just let me know when you do. I'd be happy to be a shoulder for you to cry on, or, you know, listen to some steamy gossip about you and your boy toy."

"Thanks."

They went their separate ways, and Sakura made a quick stop into Headmaster Ayase's office. An office aide delivered a slip informing Sakura to stop by her office on her lunch break. Her secretary gave her the green light, and she was about to enter when a familiar voice had her pausing. The door was cracked, and her heart stopped when she saw Mr. Li. She started to turn around to leave, but against her better judgement, she stayed. She could only see a sliver of him, sitting in the chair in front of the desk, and she couldn't see Headmaster Ayase at all.

"I just wanted to make sure you're holding up, considering–" Headmaster Ayase's voice was low and concerned.

"I'm fine," Mr. Li cut him off sharply.

"Well, that may be true. And if it is, I'm glad to hear it. I just don't want to have another repeat of last year."

 _What happened last year?_

"That won't happen," Mr. Li assured him. Sakura could hear movement, and then Headmaster Ayase stood next to him, clapping him on the back.

"Let me know if you need anything."

Mr. Li nodded, then stood up, and she took that as her cue to bail. She tiptoed to the chairs waiting outside his office and sat down just before they opened the door. She plastered on a fake smile that faded once she saw the expression on Mr. Li's face. He looked angry and uncomfortable, and even thought she wasn't sure what that conversation was about, she had the urge to hug him. She wasn't even sure why she was so affected by him, but her red face betrayed her. She shouldn't have pulled that shit on him yesterday.

"Miss Kinomoto." Mr. Li nodded curtly, his masked slipping back into place.

"Yes?" Headmaster Ayase peeked at Sakura over Mr. Li's broad shoulder. She imagined what those shoulder would look like as he held himself up on his forearms and thrusted inside her. Her thoughts can't be healthy, but at the same time, it was natural. She was willing to bet that she was not the first student with a schoolgirl crush.

"Headmaster Ayase." She ignored Mr. Li completely, choking the door handle and flashing a flaccid smile. "I was told you wanted to speak with me."

"Actually, Miss Kinomoto, I was just checking to see if you've managed to correct your shoe situation," she said, glancing down at her feet. "But I can see that's a no– and to see how you are otherwise adjusting."

"I'm still working on it," she explained, avoiding Mr. Li's penetrating stare. "And I can't complain. Everything else is going well."

"Very good." She nodded.

"Is that all?" she asked hopefully. She could feel him looking at her accusingly, as if he knew she was eavesdropping before.

"You're excused," she said, walking back into her office.

* * *

 _"_ _Syaoran, you have to help her! She's barely breathing, and she's not responsive. She's fucking blue, Syaoran! Please, hurry! I don't… I don't know what to do!"_

 _That was the voice message that waited for him from Meiling three months after his sister started going out with Hiro Matsuwa, and he had to take the rest of the day off and run to her place. He took her to the hospital. Stayed with her for the whole period – two whole days – never leaving her side._

 _Hiro never bothered to visit her. Not even once._

 _Can't say he wasn't half-surprised._

 _She wasn't exactly in a coma, but she was out of it for long hours. When she finally opened her eyes, she smiled at him apologetically, and for one heartbreaking minute, she looked like the girl he used to know, the one who took him for an ice cream every Friday and helped him decorate the Christmas tree they had to order online because their parents never bothered to buy one._

 _"_ _It wasn't Hiro, Syaoran. It was me. I did too much. He told me it was laced with something, that it wouldn't take as much to get me high, but I guess I got a little carried away."_

 _Syaoran wasn't a religious person, but if there was a God, he needed to kill Hiro Matsuwa. Strike him down here and now. He clasped her hand in his and smiled, pretending not to give a damn, even though he did._

 _"_ _It's okay. Can I have his phone number?" he gave up on getting his address a long time ago, and now the only thing stopping him from finding out the information himself was the stupid loyalty he had for his sister. "I just want to let him know you're okay."_

 _Fuutie frowned, seeing through him, even in her state. "Syaoran, no. I told you. This one's on me."_

 _No, it's not, Fuutie._

 _No, it's not._

 _After they discharged her, Syaoran locked her in his apartment. She didn't have a key, and he guessed she could try to jump from the second floor he lived on if she really wanted to, but she wouldn't. That was the only thing that gave him hope. Fuutie didn't want to die. She just wanted to be loved. Too bad she was looking for that love in the wrong place. From the wrong person._

 _He went to work, came back, and found out that his lock had been doctored. It couldn't have been Fuutie because she was still a rich little girl from Hong Kong at her core. But he knew who it could've been, and he was glad to finally get to meet him._

 _Syaoran walked into his apartment, he found them lying on his sofa. Naked. Looking dead to the world._

 _He now had a face to the name. Hiro Matsuwa still looked like a kid. But also like a thug. He was tall and tanned with trouble written all over his face. And he was slowly killing his sister._

 _Syaoran grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. His eyes were slow to adjust, and it took him a minute to come out of his drug-induced daze._

 _"_ _If you give her drugs again, I am going to fucking end you." He smiled, his voice easy. He was so high off whatever the fuck his drug of choice was that he didn't seem to know where he was or what was going on. Syaoran doubted he even knew what planet he was on._

 _"_ _What the fuck," he said, scrambling and tripping out in slow motion._

 _Syaoran threw his clothes out the door and kicked him out, hoping he'd never come back._

* * *

"Is age an important factor in a relationship?" Rika asked, tapping her chin with her pencil. Every Friday, he let his students pick a subject they'd like to debate. He found it made them more interested and engaged in the class, and it also kept him in touch with their interests. Not that he was old. Twenty-nine wasn't exactly ancient, but he didn't have the time or the need to read their magazines and watch their stupid movies and shows to stay in the loop. So he took it – math related or not. And every year, without fail, this subject came up.

"All right, Miss Sasaki, let's hear your introduction to the subject." He leaned on his desk and listened to her. Yamazaki, the preppy fuck who sits to Sakura's right, was slipping notes to her. Syaoran ignored them, if only to remind himself that he didn't have a particular interest in Miss Kinomoto herself, but in her brother. He better remember that, because the lines were beginning to blur, just a tad, and that made him somewhat uncomfortable.

Sasaki talked. She made sense. The class started the discussion.

"I would not date an old dude." A girl from class, Chiharu, snorted, widening her eyes. "I mean, what would be his motivation? Is he just a creep after fresh meat? Or does he want someone he can manipulate because I'm not as experienced as he is?"

"I would totally date an older guy!" Rika exclaimed. "In the end, it's all about the connection and the chemistry between two individuals. Right, Mr. Li?" She held herself back from winking at him. _Just_. He lifted a brow.

"There are many issues you still haven't touched. I want you to dig deeper into this subject: laws, expectations, stigmas, interest, and goals," Syaoran answered dryly, his eyes scanning the class. He saw Yamazaki – the idiot – slipping another note into Sakura's palm. He hadn't even seen her open any of them, so he couldn't pick on her. Not that he should want to, but it was making him irrationally angry.

"Mr. Yamazaki, anything to contribute to this conversation?"

He raised his head and grinned slyly. This kid was a tool, and if it wasn't for the fact that Mommy and Daddy were loaded, he wouldn't have a single friend here.

"What? How I feel about dating a MILF? I think I would. I mean, why not? Though for now, I'm sticking to high school girls. I even have my eye on one in particular." He winked and pretended to elbow Sakura, though they were too far apart. Sakura's expression was bored and pathetic. It placated him a bit, even though it shouldn't have.

"Yeah, like your _girlfriend_?" Chiharu Mihara snapped, and Yamazaki didn't even look a little sorry.

"My bad, babe. I forgot you were here." He laughed, and his friends followed suit.

 _Dumbasses._

"Miss Kinomoto?" Syaoran asked, before he could stop himself. Not that it looked suspicious. She regularly partook in these discussions, and everyone is expected to particupate. It was because he was too fascinated with this girl, and it unnerved him.

"I wouldn't care about the stigma," she said, her eyes still stuck on the board behind him.

"And the expectations?" Yamazaki asked.

The class laughed, and Syaoran found himself curious to know her answer.

"I'm fine with the expectations, too." She didn't even blink.

"Well, you look like a ride or die chick." Miyazaki laughed.

"You look like a biker chick," Rika mumbled.

"No need to sugar-coat it. The term you're looking for is 'white trash'." Chiharu snorted. Syaoran's head snapped up.

"Miss Mihara, come again, please," he said, as indifferent as he possibly could be. She lifted her head from the doodles on the notebook in front of her and opened her mouth, at a loss for words. She didn't think he'd hear. Chiharu Mihara. The senator's grandchild. A cheerleader. The poser child for everything empty and superficial herself.

"Sorry, Mr. Li," she mumbled.

"That's not what you said." He smiled easily. "And that's not what I asked. Repeat your last sentence, Miss Mihara."

She looked left and right, clearly uncomfortable. Syaoran chanced a glance at Sakura. It didn't look like she cared too much, and that not only put him at ease, but made him feel a misdirected sense of pride.

Chiharu repeated her words, looking down, looking guilty.

"Miss Mihara, a word after class," he said. She nodded.

The class continued the discussion. The bell rang. Everybody stood up but Chiharu. Sakura, included.

"You, too, Miss Kinomoto."

"Again?" Yamazaki muttered, annoyed as he flung his backpack over his shoulder and stalked to the door. Syaoran needed to stop. He needed to stop this, but the prospect of revenge is too much to resist. He told himself it had nothing to do with this invisible pull he felt when it came to Sakura.

He sat behind his desk.

"Mihara, come sit next to Kinomoto."

She did without hesitation. For a split second, he thought she might've challenged him, but then he remembered that Sakura Kinomoto is the only girl at Tokyo Private who ever would. And the only one crazy enough to get off on it.

"Apologise to Miss Kinomoto."

"I'm sorry," she told Sakura, who didn't even acknowledge her. She continued picking at her chipped peach nail polish. "I didn't mean that."

Yes, she did.

"Miss Mihara," He pulled out the detention slip, "two days."

"Oh my God! Are you serious?" She flung her arms in the air, exasperated.

"A week," he said easily. "Starting Monday."

She cupped her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide, shaking it back and forth. She knew what was going to happen if another word slipped between her lips. He scribbled on the detention slip, tore it off the pad, and handed it to her with a smile.

"In my world, your actions today in class classify as bullying. I will not tolerate bullying, in any shape or form. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir."

She stood up and walked out of the classroom, slamming the door behind her. Sakura was still in her seat.

"You can go now, Kinomoto," he said. What he failed to add was that he didn't want her to. What the hell was wrong with him?

She lifted her face from her hands finally and smiled.

"I've been thinking about you this week."

 _Oh, fuck no._

He got up and gathered his things. Laptop, notebook, wallet, and keys.

"You're excused, Miss Kinomoto. Don't test my patience. Not again."

"Do you like my shoes?" she asked, parting her legs open a few inches. Not a lot. Enough to make him want to peek and see what was between them – the way her stepbrother did the other day – and that thought made him feel like a scumbag.

He didn't know why she was still wearing her old shoes, and she was obviously baiting him, but he didn't give anything away.

"Not particularly," he said shortly. "If you don't evacuate my room in ten seconds, I will take it as a sign you would like to join your good friend, Mihara, in detention."

"I don't mind." She shrugged. "It's not like I have a ride home today. My stepbrother is out of town."

Syaoran swallowed.

"Kinomoto," he warned.

" _Syaoran_ ," she retorted.

Reluctantly, he moved his eyes to look at her. His desk was clean, and it was time for him to move his feet and _go_. Her legs were wide open, and all he had to do was scroll down and see her panties. She smiled. She knew what she was doing to him, and it made him want to break all the rules and show her that she was not the only one who could be brazen.

 _Fuck, I invented brazen, sweetheart_.

"Close your legs." He blinked away, fast. "If you pull this kind of shit on me one more time, I'm telling Headmaster Ayase. You claim to want out of your situation, but you know what I think? I think you're scared."

On the surface, she appeared unfazed, cocking a sardonic brow. But he knew his words were getting to her if the pursing of her lips was any indication. Her lower lip trembled just a tad. He showed no mercy. She needed to hear it.

"You're scared," he repeated. "You have a chance here, and now that it's a real possibility, you have no idea how to handle it. So, here you are, seducing your teacher. Sabotaging your opportunity because this life, in this city, is all you know."

"Is that what I'm trying to do?" Her red lips curved into a smile, her walls rising back up, higher than ever before. God, this woman. Yes, _woman._ Little girls were not his type. Never have been. But Sakura Kinomoto was only technically a teenager. She was so much older than her years.

"I don't care what you're trying to do." He took a step toward the door, tilting his head, signalling her to join him. "I just want you out of here."

"Why can't I stay? Maybe you're the one who's afraid?"

"I'm locking the door behind you."

"Maybe you should lock it with us inside." She grinned.

Blood rushed to his dick, and he really needed to get out of here.

"You just earned yourself a week of detention."

"Fine." She pouted her pretty lips in a way that made him think she just got exactly what she wanted. When she stood, he allowed himself a quick fix, checking out her creamy, long legs and hourglass figure. He needed to blow off steam tonight. This girl was trouble of the worst variety.

He held the door open for her, and she finally left, swaying her hips exaggeratedly.

 _Fuck. Me._

He watched her leave, resisting the urge to offer her a ride once school was out.

They weren't even going in the same direction.

Not only geographically, but in life.

* * *

 **s1983079**

LM - Thanks for reading.

Monstar xo - Yeah, what Hiro does was explained a bit more in this chapter.

Lolipop - It's a bit different to others but I hope that's not a bad thing.

Guest - Hope you're able to find this fic again and get your fix.

Guest - Here's your update.

Guest - Thank you! I hope you like this chapter too.


	6. Detention

**Warning: The following chapter has references to sexual imposition. Do not read if this offends or triggers you.**

 **Chapter 6: Detention**

Sakura sat, dangling her feet from the bench at the bus station with her camera on her lap, still stuck on her exchange with Mr. Li. Part of her finds his attempt at psychoanalysing her annoying, but the way he looked at her – like she was every rule he ever wanted to break – gave her a high like no other.

She checked her phone for the time. She didn't even know when the bus hit this part of town, and she was just hoping that she'd get home in time before it was too dark to walk the street. Hiro wasn't around today – said he was going to check out a toy hauler a few hours away from home – and she really should've thought this one through. Maybe she should get some mace. Or pepper spray. Something to make her feel a tad safer. Even though, she argued inwardly, most of the people she should stay away from were the ones that usually hung out on her front lawn.

She didn't care too much about Chiharu's jab. Surprised Mr. Li did though. Then again, maybe it was just another way for him to embarrass her. And it seemed like every time he did, she tried to one-up him and beat him at his own game. Pushing back has always been something that she liked doing. It was a daily struggle to stay neutral.

Listening to Bruno Mars and mouthing the words to "That's What I like," she stilled when she heard a familiar voice.

"Get in."

Sakura looked up and saw Mr. Li. She was more than a little shocked to see him here. Though, he didn't look happy about seeing her at all. She saw the indecision warring no his face.

She stubbed a finger to her chest. "Me?"

"Yeah, you. It's just a ride. I happen to know you don't live in the best neighbourhood, and it is my duty as an educator to keep you safe."

Again with this bullshit. Was he trying to convince himself or Sakura? She smiled and hopped from the bench. "You give me detention and then a ride home? Whatever you say. You're the boss."

She grabbed her bag and headed towards his SUV.

"Sweet minivan," she joked as she slid into the smooth leather seats that burned the backs of her thighs. The heat was no joke. He only looked mildly irritated at her jab.

"It's an Audi Q7," he explained as he pulled away from the curb, like she was supposed to know what that meant. She raised her eyebrows questioningly, causing him to sigh, exasperated. "Never mind."

"So, am I just supposed to ignore the fact that you know where I live?" She couldn't assume that he sought her out. Not when he vehemently shut down her advances. But, she couldn't seem to come up with another explanation either.

"Buckle up," he deadpanned, giving her a sideways glance, avoiding her question. Interesting. Maybe he did look her up. She did as he said and buckled his seatbelt, stealing a glance at him, and literally feeling her stomach flip. From his black Wayfarers and his perfectly dishevelled hair to the way his forearm flexed when he gripped the gearshift, he was fucking flawless. She wished she could reach into her backpack and pull out her camera to capture him in this moment. And she decided to do just that.

Mr. Li didn't even notice at first, but the sound of the shutter had his head snapping in her direction, his brows furrowed.

"What are you doing?" he asked, suspicion lacing his voice.

"Calm down, Teach. It's just a picture." She took a few more. His hand on the gear, her feet up on his dash, the new mural on the freeway.

She put her camera away, and her eyes trailed their way back up to his. She couldn't tell for sure through the sunglasses, but she was pretty damn sure he zeroed in on her thighs, and his throat bobbed with a hard swallow. Her hands fist the edge of her skirt nervously, and she adjusted her legs that were sticking to the hot leather seat. His head jerked up, and he cleared his throat and focussed back on the road. She was flushed and on fire, but it wasn't from the Tokyo sun.

She bit her lip to keep herself from saying something stupid and rested her forehead against the window. Flirting came as naturally as breathing to her, but it was one thing to bait him at school. This little game felt all too real off school grounds and in the intimate space of his car.

As they got closer to her house, her stomach was flipping for a very different reason. She didn't want him to see where she lived. He said he knew, but _knowing_ her address and _seeing_ where she lived were two completely different things. She hated that she was ashamed of something she had no control over, and at that she felt a twinge of guilt. Her dad worked hard to keep a roof over her head, and there was no shame in that. She half expected Mr. Li to ask for directions, but sure enough, he knew exactly where he was going.

She didn't notice him at first, because her street was lined with shitty cars parked every which way, blocking her view of the driveway, but when she saw Hiro and his friend in the yard, her whole body filled with dread. And when she noticed the beer in his hand, that dread turned into panic. What the hell was he doing home? And why wasn't he there to pick her up if he was in town? She whipped her head around, her wide eyes pleading with his to understand. Mr. Li's jaw flexed, and he shook his head imperceptibly. He wasn't going to make this easy on her.

"Thanks for the ride. See you tomorrow?"

He unbuckled his seatbelt, and she turned to see if Hiro had noticed their arrival. Oh, he had, all right, and he was marching straight toward them.

"Don't," Sakura implored before Hiro was in earshot. "I don't have the energy to deal with this tonight."

"Deal with what, exactly, Sakura? I thought you said you weren't in any kind of danger?" She rolled her eyes and hopped out, coming face-to-face with Stepbrother Dearest. He was in a muscle tank and grease-stained jeans, his massive ink-covered arms crossed over his chest.

"You play chauffeur to all your students?"

Hiro flicked his chin in Mr. Li's direction. She didn't dare look at him, but she felt him come stand behind her and she sighed, knowing this wasn't going to end well.

"Just making sure she gets home safe since no one else cared to," he said as he pressed his palm to her lower back. It was meant to be a polite gesture, but she knew Hiro, and he was not going to see it that way. She couldn't even pretend that the weight of his large, warm palm on the small of her back didn't affect her. His pinky finger rested on the small space of skin above her skirt, where her shirt had ridden up, and if they were anywhere else, she'd be tempted to ask himto show her how good his hands could make her feel on other parts of her body. But Hiro noticed the placement of his hand, and she knew she would have about two seconds to act before shit hit the fact.

 _Annnd here we go._

Hiro gripped Sakura's bicep and pulled her out of the way. Her foot caught on a rock in the yard, causing her to stumble into him.

"Get in the house, Kura," Hiro said as he chugged the rest of his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He tossed the empty bottle into the graveyard of bottles in their yard.

"Hiro, he's my _teacher_. Don't be ridiculous."

"Kura. House. Now."

"She's not a dog, man.?" At that, Hiro lunged at Mr. Li, but she managed to jump in between them before he made contact. Her hands were on his chest, and she knew he could flick her away like an insect, but he didn't. His breaths were coming out short and fast through his nose, and she knew she needed to diffuse the situation before he lost control.

Once again.

 _Tick, tick, tick_.

"Hiro, take me inside." Her voice was steady and calm, belying the anxiety swirling in her gut. He didn't answer her. Hiro seemed to be shooting daggers out of his eyes while Mr. Li appeared almost bored.

"Yo. Let's go." Hiro's arm wrapped around her hip possessively, and she knew she'd gotten through.

"Don't touch my fucking girl again. Don't talk to her. Don't even _look_ at her unless she's in class. I won't tell you again."

Sakura led Hiro toward the house, and this time, he let her. His friend tagged along behind them. After they were inside, he went straight for the fridge and grabbed another beer. Sakura set her backpack on the kitchen counter and looked out the window, only to lock eyes with Mr. Li.

He was leaning again his car, arms crossed over his chest, and a scowl on his face. She bit her lip and looked back at Hiro who was already firmly planted on the couch next to his friend, downing another beer, oblivious to their little staring contest.

"Thank you," she mouthed silently. Mr. Li nodded once and headed back to the driver's side. Despite the drama, she felt a smile tugging at her lips. He felt something. He had to.

"What the fuck are you so happy about? I mean it, Kura. Stay the fuck away from him. He's bad news." At that, she had to laugh.

"He's bad news? You're the one who bailed on me, leaving me to find my way home, and for what? To get drunk with this asshole in the middle of the day?" She flung her arm in his friend's direction. "No offense."

He burped and wiggled his eyebrows. "None taken."

"It was just a ride. And stop telling people I'm yours. It's creepy."

"It's the fucking truth," he seethed. "And I had a change of plans. Shit happens, Kura, and believe it or not, my life doesn't revolve around you."

"Dick," Sakura mumbled and turned back to the kitchen.

She made herself a sandwich, grabbed a water bottle, and headed to her room for the night. She wasn't making dinner for those fuckers. She had a feeling they were drinking their dinner tonight, anyway.

* * *

Sakura woke up to rough hands pawing at her chest through her tank top and the scent of beer invading her nostrils. "Hiro, stop," she croaked out – her voice still groggy from sleep – as she threw an elbow into his gut. These middle-of-the-night meeting were becoming more frequent, and it was equal parts irritating and alarming.

"C'mon, Kura. I need it." She felt his hard-on pressing into her ass, and she wiggled away.

"You're drunk. Get out of my bed."

"Make me," he slurred as he flipped her onto her back and pinned her with his weight. "Have you been giving this sweet little body to your teacher, Kura? Is that why you don't want me anymore? That pretty boy can't make you feel like I can. Let me show you." He started tugging at her sleep shorts, and that's what had her snapping out of her sleepy haze.

"Get off me!" She thrashed beneath him and managed to heave his drunk ass off her, and he landed on the floor with a resounding _thud_.

"Fuck, Kura!" he yelled, still laid out on the tiny space between the wall and her bed. She knew he could easily overpower her and take what he wanted, but he didn't. He wouldn't. She knew that deep down, Hiro would never hurt her like that. He pounded his fist into the wall three times before standing up and storming out. She didn't even say a word. She stared at the ceiling, wondering how they got to this point.

Her stepbrother, best friend, and childhood hero had turned into someone she didn't even recognise. Every pivotal moment in their lives played out in her head, and she dissected them all – wondering what they could've done differently – until the sun came up. When it did, she came to two conclusions. And it was nothing she didn't know already.

Hiro needed help, and she needed to get the fuck out of there.

* * *

Hiro was gone all weekend, and Sakura's dad called to let her know that he was picking up another route, so she was home alone. Extreme boredom had her calling Eriol, and he came to her rescue. She spent two full days drinking poolside in a house more gorgeous and luxurious than she ever knew existed. His parents weren't home, so they had access to their endless supply of alcohol. Eriol seemed to need the distraction about as much as Sakura did, but they had an unspoken agreement. Don't ask; don't tell. She decided to save her interrogation for Monday, which was today.

She expected to have to drag Hiro out of bed to take her to school after she got ready, but to her surprise, he was pacing the hall outside her door, fisting his greasy hair with both hands.

"I'm sorry, Kura. I'm sorry I'm fucked up."

He pulled her in for a hug, and she revelled in the familiarity. No matter how unstable he became, she thought his arms would always feel like safety to her. It didn't make any sense, and it was certainly not healthy, but it was them. She ran her hand up and down his back in a soothing manner, and he kept talking.

"I've got the weight of the world on my back. I don't know how to fix things The things I've done…" he trailed off. He was rambling, not making any sense. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and his eyes looked crazed.

"What do you mean? What did you do?" Ice filled her veins. As if he suddenly realised what he said, he stood up straight and disconnected from her.

"Come on. You're gonna be late for school," he said, effectively changing the subject. She nodded slowly, not knowing what to say or do for him, and grabbed her backpack off the counter. She stuffed a banana and a water bottle into her bag and headed outside.

"Have you slept at all?" Sakura scanned him, worry tugging an invisible string in her heart. He looked like complete shit. His eyes were red, and his skin looked clammy.

"I'm fine. Mind your business."

Hiro was fidgety on the way to school, tapping his handlebars at every stoplight and jiggling his knee. Even when he pulled into the Tokyo Private parking lot, he couldn't see to get her off his bike fast enough, and he took off before she could even mutter a 'thank you'. He seemed nervous. Paranoid, almost, with the way his eyes darted around, constantly surveying his surroundings.

After first period, Sakura couldn't find Eriol anywhere, so she headed to second period early. When she saw that Mr. Li was the only one there, she rethought her decision. She stopped short in the doorway and hesitated a minute before turning around to leave.

"Come in, Miss Kinomoto. Have a seat," he said casually, not giving any indication if Friday made things weird for him or not.

"I, uh, didn't know you'd be here already," she said lamely.

He gave her a brisk nod before returning his attention to his laptop.

She made her way to her desk and noticed that their papers from last class were graded and waiting. She spotted the B minus on hers and rolled her eyes. That was an A paper, no doubt. She flipped to the second page and noticed a sticky note attached that read:

 _Sakura,_

 _If you ever find yourself in trouble._

 _011-529-1943_

Holy. Shit. Her teacher just gave her his number. Part of her wanted to do a happy dance in her desk, but her giddiness died when she realised that it was for all the wrong reasons. Or, she guessed, the right reasons. He felt sorry for her.

"What the hell is this?" she asked, waving the note attached to her finger.

"It's exactly what it says it is. You don't seem to have a parent around. Your source of transportation is your unreliable, unstable stepbrother. And you live in the roughest part of Tokyo."

"And? That's your business, how?" Her wounded pride had her acting like a snot, but she couldn't help it.

"It's not. I just…" He sighed and scrubbed a hand across his jaw. "I've seen first-hand what can happen to girls in your shoes," he said cryptically while he had a far-away look in his eyes. It's an unexpectedly candid moment free of any sarcasm, and some of her irritation melted away. She didn't know what to make of it.

"You know many poor girls with absent but well-meaning fathers and borderline obsessive stepbrothers from the hood, do you?" She pushed her lower lip out and nodded. His usual aloof mask fell back into place at her teasing, and the bell rang.

"Save the damn number, Miss Kinomoto."

"Yes, sir," she said sardonically. When he looked up at her again, she swore she saw a hint of a smirk, but he wiped it away the second students started to pour into the classroom, and the moment was gone.

During class, she snuck her phone under her desk and programmed his number. In a moment of bravery, or maybe temporary insanity, she scrawled out her number on the back of the Post-it. He was standing in front of his desk when they were dismissed, and she took her time packing up so she was the last one out. As soon as the last person stood, she followed and slipped the Post-it into his palm. His warm hand squeezed hers, and he rubbed his thumb over her wrist before jerking his hand away, pocketing her number with a quickness. His eyes darted around to make sure no one else saw, then he looked at Sakura expectantly.

"In case _you_ ever need _me_ ," she explained, unable to hide her grin. His eyebrow cocked in amusement, and she walked away, her hand still burning from his touch.

"Somebody got laid," Eriol joked upon seeing her stupid grin still firmly fixed on her face. He hooked an arm through Sakura's.

"I wish."

"I can help with that," Yamasaki – the kid from second period that liked to harass her – said as he took her books out of her hands.

"No thanks," Sakura snapped, reaching to snatch her books back.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, I'm just trying to be a gentleman here." Yamasaki laughed as he held her books over her head.

"Dude, come on," she whined. "I have first lunch today, and it's pizza day. _Pizza_ ," she stressed. "I'll never forgive you if they run out before I get a piece. Or seven."

"Agree to go out with me tomorrow, and I will."

"Ew," Sakura said, crinkling up her nose, because it was the only appropriate response to that.

"Tick-tock, baby girl. Pizza goes pretty quickly."

Before she could even roll her eyes at his little game, Eriol stepped in front of me and shoved Yamasaki. Hard. His back hit the lockers, and he looked almost as confused as Sakura was.

"Quit being a dick and give her the fucking books," Eriol demanded through clenched teeth. Benton threw her books down and pushed Eriol back.

"What the fuck's your problem? If I didn't know you were gayer than a bag of dicks, I might think you're jealous." Yamasaki looked smug, but it didn't last long because Mr. Li was now walking toward them looking his tall, imposing, sexy as fuck self.

"Break it up, ladies," Mr. Li said, sounding bored as he looked between Dumb and Dumber. Neither one says a word.

Sakura didn't even know what the fuck just happened. Up until now, Yamasaki was a harmless douche. A cocky little fucker who was annoying but never malicious. But even more shocking was Eriol's behaviour. She didn't even know what triggered that reaction.

When Mr. Li was tired of their silent act, he ordered everyone to get moving. Sakura bent over to grab her scattered books and headed to lunch.

* * *

"Hey, Sakura, right?" Sakura turned toward the voice, and a petite girl with short, brown hair is hurrying in her direction.

"Yeah, what's up?" Sakura asked as she adjusted her knee sock in the hall. School is out, but she still had detention. _Awesome_.

"I'm Rika Sasaki. Or just Rika. We have second period together?" she stated it as a question.

"Oh, yeah, that's right. I think we have English together, too."

"Yep." She nodded. "You need a raincoat for the first row in that class." She laughed.

"So I've noticed," Sakura grumbled.

"Anyway, I'm an office aide for my third period, and Eriol told me to tell you not to wait up. He went home."

"I figured as much." Something was up with him today. "Thanks for letting me know, though."

"For sure. See you tomorrow."

Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she saw a text from her dad.

 **Hey, Sakura. Just stopping for lunch and thought I'd check in. Staying out of trouble?**

She decided to respond later because she needed to get to detention. Just as she turned the corner by Mr. Li's class, Chiharu came into view.

"What are you looking at?" she snapped.

"I'm not really into snap judgements, but if I had to guess, I'd say I'm looking at an entitled, narcissistic little girl who is threatened by anyone other than herself getting attention and wears her mean girl mask to hide her insecurities. But, like I said, I'm not into snap judgements."

Chiharu's mouth dropped open, but Sakura didn't give her a chance to respond. She walked directly to her seat in Mr. Li's class. Chiharu stepped in behind her, all but pouting.

"Ladies," Mr. Li greeted from behind his desk. "Read. Do your homework. Contemplate the meaning of life. I don't care. No phones and no talking."

Sakura gave him a mock salute and pulled out a notebook. His mouth twitched. Chiharu sighed dramatically and studied her nails. It was going to be a long week.

Sakura didn't know what she expected to accomplish or achieve with detention, but whatever it was – it didn't happen. Maybe it was Chiharu's presence in the room – it had to be, she convinced herself, because Syaoran Li had never been so cold and disinterested in her in their entire short relationship.

It had been five torturous days of detention. Five days of being in the same room as Mr. Li and having to act unaffected. Five days of ignoring death stares from Chiharu. Five days of watching her shameless attempt to flirt her way out of detention and resisting the urge to strangle her. It had been five days of hell, so why didn't she feel happy that it was over?

"All right, Miss Kinomoto, Miss Mihara. Detention is officially over. Let's try not to waste any more of each other's time in the future." Chiharu was out the door before he even finished his sentence. Sakura took a slower approach, contemplating her next move.

"Everything okay, Miss Kinomoto?" Mr. Li asked as she studied the doodles in her notebook.

"Everything is fine," she muttered, tapping her finger again her full lips. The truth of the matter was, detention was not all that bad. She got to stare at him, which probably wasn't healthy, but it was nice, and when you're in her position, you take every little good thing that came your way. She got to do her homework. Hiro was always late to pick her up anyway, so it wasn't like she'd be getting more free time if she didn't have detention. Oh, and let's not forget – it wasn't like she was in any hurry to get home.

"Well, time to pack a bag," Mr. Li said, leaning forward, his palms flat against his desk. "And. Leave."

Reluctantly, she gathered her things. She saw his eyes scanning her. She saw him contemplating, too. He wanted to ask her if she had a ride. She did. But she would ditch Hiro somehow if he'd ask. Only Mr. Li didn't ask. He turned around and left.

* * *

Sakura stood corrected.

She didn't have a ride – not for antoher forty minutes. Hiro texted her saying that he worked at the auto shop 'til late and was just now on his way, so she had time to burn.

At first, she loitered by the fountain at the entrance, but thens he stopped Mr. Li walking to the nearest convenience store by foot. Since she was an idiot with no self-control, she did the only thing she absolutely shouldn't be doing – taking her camera out of her backpack and following him.

It wasn't such a big operation to pull off, when you think about it. Tokyo Private was bang in the middle of a vast, broad, tree-lined street that looked like it had been copied and pasted from a move – the complete opposite of where she lived. Suburbia-galore and packed with preppy, middle-aged women in obnoxiously big sunglasses, shopping with their daughters. In other words, she managed to follow him without being noticed. She stood behind a tree and ogled him as he entered the store. Through the glass, she saw him plucking out a can of Coke and walking to the register.

 _Click, click, click_.

He pointed at two things behind the guy who rung him up, and the latter threw a pack of cigarettes and condoms into his bag.

 _Click, click_.

Slowly, she lowered her camera and squinted. Her heart was galloping, slamming into her ribcage, and now it wasn't just because she was borderline stalking the man who taught her. Condoms? Logically, she shouldn't be surprised. He was gorgeous. What exactly was she expecting him to do? Turn down women his own age for his student? Nonetheless, it felt like betrayal.

He shouldn't be with anyone else.

Hell, she knew she was talking crazy – thinking crazy, to be exact – but he just shouldn't.

It was a dangerous game, but apparently she was still playing it, because when he left the store with his bag of sex and the cigarette after, she followed him still. He didn't walk back o the school grounds. He went in the other direction, toward a small café. Seeing him like this, in broad daylight, outside of school, gave her a new perspective on Syaoran Li.

She saw how people looked at him – how women looked at him – and realised that whatever drew her to him captured other women, too. He was so tall, so commanding – you can't not look. And she really should stop looking. He made it very clear that he wanted nothing to do with her, and even if he did, what the heck was she saying? She needed to focus on getting out of here, not on screwing her way into another problem.

 _Click. Click, click._

Her camera captured him shaking a guy's hand. She didn't recognise the other man, but why would she? A crazy thought hit her. Maybe Syaoran was gay. Maybe he bought the condoms so he could go to town with this dude. Unlikely. He wouldn't look at her the way he did if that were true. They meet by the café, and the man handed him a manilla envelope, which Syaoran took. Sakura was dying to know what was in there, but she settled for taking a few more pictures. They spoke some more, then five minutes later, he was walking back toward Tokyo Private. She waited a few minutes before she followed back to sit at the stairs and wait for Hiro.

And spent the rest of her waiting time going over the new images she had of Mr. Li.

She was in trouble.

Deep trouble.

Only difference in this time, she didn't get dragged into other people's woes.

She created it. All. By. Herself.

* * *

 **s1983079**

Thanks for reading. If you can, leave a review.

Monstar xo - I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.


	7. Uncharted Territory

**Chapter 7: Uncharted Territory**

Kei Nishikori was the best private investigator in town. You better believe it, because he has helped take down some of the biggest gambling gangsters and drug mobsters in Tokyo. His services aren't cheap. Syaoran usually didn't like to dip into his truth fund from his grandparents. With the exception of his house, he lived a pretty modest lifestyle. He bought it because when Fuutie died, he wanted a place further away from the city so he could effectively hide from the world. Pay his own way, even on a teacher's salary, is a pride thing for him, but he didn't give a shit. He was worth every penny, and he was going to help Syaoran come up with a bulletproof case against Hiro Matsuwa. Something that would throw him in prison for life without parole, preferably.

Kei had already started coming up with evidence.

Auto shop, _yeah right_. Hiro had been dealing everything from prescription meds to heroin for the last five years of his life. It was a full-time job, but he had recently found the time to expand and start dealing weapons, too. Nothing too big. Syaoran wasn't too sure where Hiro was getting them, but he sure hoped that he wasn't keeping them at his house. Sakura deserved better. A lot better.

That place was not safe.

Which brought him to why he decided to go for it in full force. For a second there, he had a little guilt trip over the fact that he was going to take away the only person in her life who actually cared. Only to realise that in the grand scheme of things, if the only person who loved you was being physically and mentally abusive to you and sold drugs and guns for a living, then you were better off without them.

Because this asshole was not going to do her any good. For one thing, he was already responsible for one death. He wouldn't be so lucky to get away with killing two of them. Not under Syaoran's watch, anyway.

Tonight, he dragged some random he met at a bar to his bed and fucked her senseless. It was a calculated move on his end, and he very rarely felt the urge to have sex with strangers. Sometimes you have so many things to take care of in your life that sex is just not worth the trouble and you'd rather rub one off instead of making the effort. But ever since the school year started and Sakura Kinomoto bulldozed into his life with her pouty lips, wide, green eyes, and long, brown hair, he needed an outlet. Today was the worst, because when her detention was over, she didn't want to leave. And neither did he.

After Chiharu left, it dawned on him that he could walk over to the door, lock it, amble in her direction, flatten her against the desk, and eat her until she screamed his name. And she would let him. And hell, she would love every single second of it, maybe more than he would. The thought was so real, so vivid, and most dangerously – _so possible_ – he had to act fast. So he did. He slept with someone else.

Did it help? No.

Does he still think about her? Hell, yes.

He should stop.

This won't have a happily ever after.

But he couldn't.

He wouldn't.

* * *

The next day dragged. Mathematics was the kind of class that was very hit-and-miss. If you have a few intellectual students in class, it was the most fulfilling and exhilarating thing that could happen to you as a teacher – which is why he picked this subject over anything else. But if you were working with a bunch of idiots, you were kind of wondering why the hell you were so hell-bent on becoming a teacher in the first place. His undergraduate degree was in actuarial science. He was very good at what he did. He could make a good living out of it. A living that included a six-figure salary, sports car, and friends in high places. Instead, he made a conscious decision to teach others the art of math. Hopefully, by the time his job was done here, every student of his would be able to calculate anything they want without breaking a sweat.

Syaoran strode in the hallway at the end of the day toward his class, ready to grade some papers. It was going to be a long evening, but he had his can of Coke and his cigarettes for his break – shit, he smoked fulltime now, since he discovered Hiro was right under his nose – he couldn't even complain when Meiling asked him to buy her a pack.

He opened the door to his classroom, locked it for good measure – he hated to be interrupted when he read and graded papers – spun around, and saw Sakura Kinomoto sitting in the front row, her designated seat, looking at him straight in the eye.

"School is over," he growled, perhaps a little too aggressively, but they needed space between them. Fast. This was getting out of control. The last thing he needed right now was more Sakura time, but he guessed that was the least he could do seeing as he was about to take the only person who was there for her soon.

"I know." She shrugged, popping a fruity gum that sent shivers down his spine. She smelled damn good, and that was another problem with her sitting so close to him. "But I've decided to keep my detention time with you. You're here, anyway, so why do you care?"

"Because it's both inappropriate and pointless," he shot out, scrubbing his two-day stubble.

"I would have to disagree with both assessments, Mr. Li. There is nothing inappropriate with me doing my homework in your class while you're grading papers, and it actually does have a point, because as you're well aware, I have enough distractions at home. It's hardly a suitable environment to study in."

She did well in his class, and he knew exactly what she went home to. He'll give her that. And he was too tired to argue, anyway. At least here, he knew she was safe. _From him, anyway_.

Syaoran walked over to his desk and dumped the stack of papers. Her eyes were following him. He arranged his red and black pens, took out his laptop, then checked his phone for messages from his parents and Meiling. All throughout, she was still watching him. And he liked it. He shouldn't, but he did.

"Eyes on your work, Kinomoto."

She licked her bottom lip slowly and blinked once. He did the same, but hell if he met her gaze. Not going to give her that power over him. She was just a goddamn kid.

 _Only she didn't seem like a kid_.

"I'm wet," she murmured. His eyes snapped up.

"What the hell did you just say to me?"

"I _bet_ ," she corrected, her smile casual, "that you're not as cranky after hours, Mr. Li."

"You won't find out either way," he mumbled, dropping into his seat.

"I already do. You gave me a ride, remember?"

Of course, he remembered. He wanted to walk right into her house and rip Hiro to shreds. To reach right into his chest and stop his heart from beating. But he said nothing. He should've kicked her out. The protocol would've advised him to do so, very strongly. Actually, he was already crossing boundaries just listening to her dirty little mouth telling him that she was aroused. He should be dragging her by the ear to the headmaster's office and slap her with detention for the rest of the year. But he didn't play into her game. She wanted to do just that. Wants more detention. More _attention_. Honestly, she should've and would've been expelled for the type of shit she was pulling if anyone else knew.

"Miss Kinomoto, I'd hate for you to kill your only chance of getting into a decent college without having to strip your way through, and for what? A crush? Cut the bullshit."

He stripped himself from niceties and hit her with the uncomfortable truth. Because that was the reality of things. Sakura Kinomoto was going to be stuck here forever if she didn't snap out of it, and she did have a crush on him. The fact that the feeling was mutual was beside the point.

She didn't submit under his stare, nor did she seem fazed. Any other student would've been in tears by now. He didn't take shit from anyone. And he has made more than one student cry when he crushed their little student-teacher fantasy. But this girl was not scared. She was programmed differently. He could see that.

"You wouldn't jeopardise my future." Her big, red smile widened, and she slacked against the back of her seat, drawing lazy cirlces with her peach fingernails over the flash of her cleavage.

"Oh? And why is that?"

"You like me too much."

"Miss Kinomoto, I barely tolerate you. If you think I'll give you special treatment…"

"You already do." She leaned forward and propped herself on her elbows, pressing her tits together, and _fuck_ , he was hard as stone. This couldn't happen. He needed to stand up and open the door. But he couldn't risk her seeing him tenting like a schoolboy. He wasn't Yamasaki. He was a goddamn teacher. "You already do, _Syaoran_. You gave me a ride. And your phone number. And here you are, letting me stay with you after school. You're responsible for this thing just as much as I am. Maybe even more. Because I'm just reacting. You were a willing party in all this." She stopped stroking her flesh so she could circle the room with her finger. "And now there's no stopping it."

The days after were much the same.

Sakura Kinomoto came back every day for the detention she didn't have. They were already straddling the line of appropriate student-teacher relationships, and if they were to keep this up – whatever this was – they were going to jump so far over it that they wouldn't even remember what the line looked like. But still, _he let her stay_. He told himself it had nothing to do with the way she made his cock twitch from one look at those pouty lips and everything to do with the fact that he knew she was safer here than at home. But the truth was more complicated than that. Sakura Kinomoto wasn't safe with him. She wasn't even safe from herself. Sakura Kinomoto would never be safe until she went away. She knew it. He knew it. The clock was ticking.

 _Tick, tick, tick_.

Day after day, she came to his class, until four thirty, under the pretense of doing her homework. Sometimes she read. Sometimes she listened to music with her earbuds. Somethings she bothered him with her incessant questions. But always tempting. Always pushing boundaries. Every single shift of her legs, lick of her lips, and twirl of her hair was so effortlessly seductive, so deeply ingrained in her that he wasn't sure if she was aware of what she was doing.

She was a temptress through and through, but the bad girl act, he suspected, was just that. An act. She was an innocent wrapped in a body made up of every sin he had ever wanted to omit. A good girl with bad intentions. Sakura wasn't thinking about the consequences of her actions. He was the adult – it was his job to do the responsible thing. So, that was what he precisely did. He provided a safe, calm environment after school, all while ignoring her brazen flirting and fighting the urge to accept what she was offering. To take her. To use her. To claim her.

This unspoken arrangement had worked out fine for them, if you don't count Syaoran's internal suffering. Until today. Today, when it was so hot that she gathered that long hair into a messy ponytail on top of her head. Today, when the ivory expanse of her neck was exposed and he could count the beauty marks sprinkled across it. Today, when he pen was crushed between her ample lips as she nibbled on the tip. Today, when her long legs bounced to the beat only she could hear. Today, when she stared at him, challenging, under thick lashes. It was as if she knew his senses seemed to be heightened and he was all too aware of her allure and his resolve could snap at any moment. _Fuck today_. She needed to leave.

"It's Friday, Miss Kinomoto. Don't you have anything better to do than hang out with your teacher?"

"I could ask you the same question," she taunted. "A guy like you can't be short on companions. And yet, here you are. With me. Why do you think that is?"

"Well, clearly, I'm a masochist," he said drly. Being around her was painful, but not in the way she msut've been thinking. She bit her lip and looked down at her desk in an uncharacteristic display of vulnerability. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that he just offended her. It didn't make any sense that this girl, who was tougher than most grown men he knew, had her feelings hurt over a flippant remark.

Without even making a conscious effort to do so, he was at her desk in two long strides. He had seen Sakura Kinomoto take on many faces. Pissed off. Turned on. But this one was not one he wanted to be responsible for.

"Look at me,' he ordered softly.

Always the rebel, she kept her eyes pointed down. He lifted her chin with two fingers, and fuck if her sharp intake of breath and the sight of her pulse jumping in her neck didn't do something to him.

"You're always welcome here." And that was as close to a compliment he could give her, because he certainly couldn't tell her what was really going through his mind. She rolled her eyes in that self-depreciating way of hers, and he squatted down, now eye level with the source of his torment.

"I see you, Sakura. Beneath all that bravado is a girl who is wise beyond her years. Someone who is too damn smart and too damn beautiful for her own good." He didn't mean to say the last part aloud, and judging by the way her lips parted, letting free a small gasp, he didn't think she expected it either. Their eyes locked, both their minds working overtime trying to figure out how to navigate this uncharted territory.

Her phone rang from her desk, breaking their trance. He cleared his throat and walked back toward his stack of papers. She hesitated for only a second before answering.

"Hello?" A pause. "Jesus Christ, Hiro. I'm coming. I said I'll be right out," she snapped, exasperated. She swept her belongings into her backpack and headed toward the door.

She hesitated in the doorway before looking back at Syaoran from over her shoulder. She bit her bottom lip – again – and his eyes followed the movement.

"Thank you," she said softly. And then she was gone.

* * *

Syaoran had given up on fucking other women to get his mind off Sakura. And since he couldn't fuck her out of his system, he had resorted to the lesser of two evils. He was in his bed at ten p.m. on a Friday night fucking his fist to thoughts of his student. _Pathetic_. This was becoming a nightly ritual, and every night he hated her a little more for it. For making him want her. For making him question his morals, his humanity, his general taste in women. But most of all, he hated himself for liking it. On some level, he liked the game they were playing, even though he was the one who had everything to lose. She had no skin in the game.

He was imagining her straddling his lap as he sat behind his desk at school. He imagined her inching up her skirt before freeing him from his pants. He imagined her sliding her panties to the side and sinking down onto his cock. He tried to stay still. To not be an active participant – as if that absolved him of his crimes – while she used him to get off. But he wouldn't be able to stop his hips from thrusting upward. He wouldn't be able to stop his hands from smoothing up her thighs to grip her ass and guide her movements. And when he felt her clenching around him, he wouldn't be able to hold back from–

A violent buzzing from his nightstand interrupted his depravity right before he blew. He considered ignoring it and finishing what he started, but something told him to answer. It was a number he didn't recognise – even more reason for him to ignore it – but curiosity got the best of him, and he picked it up.

"Hello?" A sniffle. Muffled music and yelling in the background.

"Mr. Li?" _Sakura?_ "I know it's late. I know I shouldn't call you, but I need you and–"

 _I need you_. Those words coming from her mouth affected him more than they should.

"Tell me where you are," he said, cutting her off.

"I'm at my house. Hiro and his stupid friends–"

"'Did anyone touch you? Are you okay?" he practically growled.

"I'm fine," she whispered, avoiding the question. "I locked myself in the bathroom."

"Stay where you are. I'm coming."

"Okay." And the fact that she was being co-operative, compliant, told him that she was not fine at all.

Knowing what he knew about Hiro, he didn't take the time to do anything beside shove his cock back into his gym shorts and throw on some shoes before he was on the road.

In Tokyo, there was always traffic and _always_ construction. But on a Friday night? He was fucked. It took him almost forty minutes to get to Sakura's house, and each passing minute felt like hours. A sense of déjà vu overwhelmed him, making him feel even more anxious. How many times had he done this very thing? Except, it wasn't a student who needed rescuing. It was his sister.

He scrolled through his call log – he never saved her number because he was _trying_ to do the right thing – and shot out a quick text.

 **I'm almost there. Don't move until I come in to get you.**

He tossed his phone into the passenger seat, looking for Sakura's street. He knew it was one of these streets. He swung a hard right and spotted her house immediately. It was hard to miss. Cars and motorcycles littered the driveway and the road. Music blared from inside. He was forced to park a few houses down. He almost left the engine running in his haste, but he knew they wouldn't have a way out of there when he got back if he did that.

He forced himself to appear calm, to walk and not run. He walked right past the people sitting in the yard drinking and threw the front door open. No one even noticed his entrance. He saw a hallway with four doors. He wasn't sure which one was the bathroom, but that was all there was to the house, so he knew she was close.

He tried one door, and it seemed to be her bedroom. There was a man draped over a girl, moving between her thighs, and Syaoran threw him off by the back of his shirt.

"What the fuck!" the guy yelled, adjusting his crotch. Syaoran looked back at the girl on the bed – not Sakura, thank fuck – and walked out without an explanation.

Door number two was locked, so he pounded on it. "Sakura? It's me! Let me in!" he yelled over the music. The doorknob twisted, and he slipped in and closed the door behind him.

"What's going on?" he asked as his mind tried to keep up with what his eyes were seeing. Sakura was on the floor with tear-stained cheeks and bloodstained thighs. Next to her were two towels with splotches of blood on them and little shards of glass were sprinkled around her.

"I'm fine," she said again. "I mean, I got nicked up, but I'm okay. What I saw…" she trailed off, her lower lip started to tremble.

"What?" he asked her. "What did you see?"

"Can you just get me out of here first? I'll tell you everything." Syaoran nodded and extended a hand to help her to her feet. Her palms looked like they had cuts, too, but he resisted the urge to question her until they were back in his car.

"Ready?" he asked instead. She nodded once and tucked her tiny hand inside his. He opened the door and kept her close to his side as they walked out. Just when they were metres from the front door, Hiro stood from the couch. It was then that Syaoran noticed the glass coffee table was shattered. There were beer cans and fast-food cups that had poured out onto the carpet and dollar bills coated in white substance.

"What the fuck are you doing with my girl? In my _house_?!" Hiro yelled, working his jaw back and forth. He was shirtless and sweating profusely, which on its own didn't mean much but the fact that he can't keep still, bouncing from foot to foot along with the dilated pupils were a dead giveaway. Syaoran knew the signs better than anyone. He was definitely using. "You're not fucking him, right, Kura? Isn't that what you said? Little lying ass bitch," he spat.

"She's coming with me," Syaoran informed him through clenched teeth. He was trying to stay calm, but firm, because he knew from experience how volatile and irrational this shit could make people.

"Fuck this!" Hiro roared, crunching over glass and trash to get to them. Syaoran tucked Sakura behind his back.

"One more fucking step, and not only will I beat the living shit out of you, but I'll call the police and let them know about your little _extracurricular activities_." His voice was menacingly low. He should've already called the goddamn cops. He won't – not yet. But he didn't need to know that. Syaoran was going to get his revenge. He was going to get justice. Just a little bit longer…

Syaoran saw the hesitation in Hiro's eyes. He was wondering if Syaoran was bluffing.

"Just let me go, Hiro. Don't do this to Dad," Sakura said as she came to stand between them.

Hiro threw his hands up in the air and spun toward the small crowd of people watching them, ignoring her altogether.

"You hear that, guys?" He laughed. "He's gonna call the fuckin' pigs!" He turned back to Syaoran. "Didn't you know? I. OWN. THIS. TOWN."

Such a bunch of bullshit, but he was so fucking strung out, he probably believed it.

Sakura tugged on Syaoran's arm, pulling him toward the door. He kept one eye on Hiro, letting her lead him outside. He opened the passenger door to let her in, and when he was walking to his side, he looked up to see Hiro standing in his doorway, arms braced on the frame. "And I own her, too, motherfucker!" he yelled and chucked a beer bottle at his car. He missed and that pissed him off even more. He turned to go back inside, throwing some girl off him when she tried to hang on him and ask if he was okay, then slammed the door.

"You need to get out of there," Syaoran pointed out dryly, reaching across the console to buckle her up. She was out of it. Completely. He didn't like this new Sakura. He liked the one who looked at him like he was her next meal, even though it was bullshit they both didn't believe it. The Sakura from school could deal with what he was about to throw her way when he locked her brother away. This one? No way in hell.

She was still in her uniform with her knees pulling to her chest, tear tracks dried to her flushed cheeks. And maybe it made him a sick bastard for thinking so, but she had never looked more beautiful than in this moment. She was vulnerable and bleeding, but still she had fire in her eyes.

"Why do you think I called you?" she snapped.

"I mean for good. You need to leave for good."

* * *

 **s1983079**

Thanks for reading. I have more written but it would be better in a separate chapter. You don't mind me posting a lot in a short time, right? The reviews are great and I encourage you to leave them on any story you read since they're the only feedback that writers get back for posting their stories. More often than not, it will make their entire week.

 **Ap423** \- Thank you for the review. I think a lot of people are too shy to leave reviews on stories like these but there really is no need since there is the anonymous option. I'm glad you're liking it and thank you for taking the time to review, it means a lot.

 **anime1angel** \- I'm glad you're liking it.

 **Guest** \- There is a lot of tension built up but it will come crashing down next chapter which I've written so get ready - I will post it tomorrow.

 **Monstar xo** \- Yeah, Syaoran is starting to see the problems with his revenge plan now but I think he's thinking of the greater good that the outcome would bring.


	8. New Domain

**Chapter 8: New Domain**

Hiro's paranoia had no bounds. He had been even more suspicious of Sakura lately, but she hadn't exactly been discreet. She knew staying late at school every day wouldn't go over well. But, she couldn't resist the urge to be anywhere but home lately. The fact that she was spending all that extra time in Mr. Li's class – well, that was simply a bonus. She loved pushing his buttons almost as much as she loved watching him squirm, but somewhere down the line, she didn't know who she was torturing anymore. Him or herself? Today, in her self-induced detention, she wanted him to put his hands on her. To grip her waist and show her how _man_ touches a woman. Not a fumbling boy. She wanted to feel his skin on hers, to taste his tongue. What would he taste like?

Then Hiro called and reality came crashing down on her. He gave her the usual third degree about fucking other guys. She informed him that she could fuck whomever she wanted. He didn't like that. Instead of going home, he made her tag along on his errands – one of which included stopping by his friend's house to pick up a "package". In hindsight, she should've known before that moment – the signs were there all along – but she realised that sometimes people were blind to the truth when it came to the people whom we love most. It was the heart's way of protecting itself.

Hiro denied doing drugs, said that he was "just selling them" … because that was so much better. The rest of the day was spent putting the pieces of the puzzle together. The paranoia. The mood swings. The late nights. It all made sense. Her brain worked overtime, trying to figure out when it began, _why_ it began, and wondering what she could've done to stop it.

When Hiro started calling people over to party – a prime opportunity to expand his clientele, Sakura was sure – a sense of dread swirled in her guy. She knew it wouldn't end well. He had told her to stay in her room, which was the norm on nights like this. Usually, she was happy to oblige. The last thing she wanted to do was hang out with a bunch of randoms. But tonight was different. She needed to pull the blinders off when it came to Hiro. To see the truth. And now, she wished she hadn't.

Hiro was sitting on the couch with something tied around his arm. His long, greasy hair hung in front of his eyes, and the girl on his lap angled herself toward him to inject something into his veins. At first, Sakura was frozen in place. But the sight of the syringe broke through her trance.

"What the fuck, Hiro?!" she yelled, and the tears that she didn't know she was crying started streaming down her face. He stood up, letting the girl on his lap fall on her ass.

"Just selling, huh? What the fuck is this?" Before she made a conscious decision to do so, she was in his face, shoving at his shoulders smacking whever she could land a hit. Hiro grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking the shit out of her.

"Fucking stop, Kura. Go back to bed!" But she didn't budge. Her heart was breaking. Instead of breaking down, she held on to the other emotion fighting its way to the surface. Rage. How could he do this? To her, to their dad, to himself? All they've ever done was love him.

"You're a piece of shit, Hiro! Nothing but a junkie, just like Emiko. Congratulations, big brother. You're your mother's son," Sakura grounded out through tears.

It was that comment that did it.

One shove from Hiro and she fell backwards onto the glass coffee table. It shattered, and a chunk of glass stabbed her inner thigh. She braced herself for the fall with outstretched hands when she landed. A couple of pieces of the coffee table were embedded in her palms, but the only pain she felt was for Hiro. Hiro's friend stepped in then, and one of the girls tried helping her up, but Sakura smacked her hand away. When she tried to go back to her bedroom, she found a girl jerking off a dude in her bed. That was the last straw. She had to get the hell out of there. She haphazardly threw some shit into her backpack – a change of clothes, her camera, and God knows what else – all while they carried on like no one was watching.

After twenty-seven million unanswered calls to Eriol, Sakura finally caved and called Mr. Li. After all, that was exactly why he gave her his number. He probably wouldn't even answer. Except he did. And more than that, he cared. This teacher of hers was more concerned for her than anyone else had been in her entire life. There was something terribly sad about that fact, but she couldn't deny that it felt good to be cared for.

Mr. Li burst through the bathroom door, somehow looking more intimidating than a house full of bikers and junkies in only a pair of mesh gym shorts and a tight white V-neck. And he protected her. Defended her. Rescued her. She wasn't usually the type of girl who needed saving, but Syaoran Li in white knight mode was a sight she wouldn't forget anytime soon. His eyebrows were drawn together, his nostrils flaring. His skin was glistening from the hot, summer night. His usually tamed hair was an unruly mess, and he never looked better to Sakura.

Now she was in his car – once again – except this ime, she had no idea where they were going. She sensed an internal battle going on with him, so she didn't ask. Anywhere was better than home. The glass barely even broke the skin on her palms, and the cut on the inside of her thigh had stopped bleeding, but she tried to pull her skirt down further so she didn't get blood on his seats, just in case. Mr. Li glanced over and shook his head.

"What happened?" he asked gruffly.

"I–"

"Never mind. Don't tell me. Not yet," he interrupted.

Sakura swallowed wordlessly, feeling her age for the first time since they met. They were both quiet as he drove them out of the city limits, toward the Dam. She still didn't ask where they were going. Wherever it was, she trusted him. A few minutes later, she saw a sign that read _Lake Tokyo Marina_. He parked and they silently walked toward the docks. Finally, he stopped and gestured for Sakura to enter a houseboat tied to the dock.

It was a modest houseboat, and there wasn't much going on inside. A tiny white table with a blue booth wrapped around it in a U-shape and a little couch with an old quilt bedspread that was sitting behind it. Mr. Li walked straight for the mini fridge and grabbed two beers. Sakura reached for one, and he snatched it out of her grasp.

"No way." He shook his head. "It's bad enough that you're here. I'm not giving you alcohol on top of it. These are both for me."

Sakura had been drinking beers with Hiro and her father since she was sixteen, but now wasn't the time to argue, so she held back the eye roll. He downed both beers within minutes and got another. He sat in the booth and gestured toward the bed with his bottle.

"Start talking," he ordered, gesturing for Sakura to sit with a head tilt. She felt his demanding tone right between her thighs.

"You mean about tonight?"

"I mean about everything. Don't spare one single detail, Sakura. I want to know how you got to where you are, what happened on the way there, and how we can make it better for you."

Sakura sat down on the edge of his bed, and she told him the whole story, start to finish. She told him about her mum dying, her dad meeting Emiko and taking in Hiro. Emiko running off. Dad being on the road all the time, and how Hiro was her brother, best friend, and her parent, all at once. She told him how lately she felt more like the parent. She told him about how she got into Tokyo Private. She told him how Hiro had been a loose cannon – hence the reason for hanging out at school more than any sane student should want to. Lastly, she told him about the drugs. When she got to the part where she fell through the table, she thought his teeth might've cracked under the pressure of his jaw.

"I'm sure," Sakura insisted, parting her legs slightly, absently tracing the dried blood. "It's just a little cut."

"It's not the first time he's been abusive to you. Physically," he said, not asked. His hard stare penetrated her self-confidence. She stared down at the floor.

"If you meant he marks on my thigh…." And when she saw the look in his eyes, the designated grown-up who didn't believe her, her voice was firmer this time. "Mr. Li, I know how to take care of myself."

"When is your father coming back?" He ignored her statement.

"Next week. Tuesday or Wednesday." She tried to remember, but it was really not that easy to get her brain to work under the watchful eye of this Adonis of a man. He tapped his lips, as if contemplating the whole situation, and her eyes zoomed in on his perfect lips. God, he was hot.

"Do you have anywhere else to stay?" he asked. Sakura gave it some thought. Not a lot. She already knew the answer. _Nope_. That would be a big, fat no. The only person she would consider to be an actual friend was Christian, and he wouldn't be able to explain her presence in his house for a few days. She didn't even feel that comfortable telling him. Despite their friendship, it was still difficult to admit just how bad things had gotten at home. Her life was so different than the lives of Tokyo Private's other students, and she thought it was sometimes difficult to comprehend.

She didn't answer, but looked away, outside through the window of the little boat. It was cosy in here. There was a medium-sized yellow couch that looked old but comfy, a small kitchen, and a bathroom you could climb down to.

"Sakur–" He started again. She cut him off this time.

"What do you want me to say, Mr. Li? That the answer is no? I have no one to rely on when things go south. I called you, didn't I?" She blew a lock of hair away from her face, frustrated. "That should tip you off about my overall situation. I don't want you to save me. I want you to make me forget."

Her voice broke at the last sentence, and she hated it, and she hated herself, and she hated _this_. She wanted to have fun with Syaoran Li. She wanted him to be a distraction from life, and instead, somehow he had become her whole life, and everything else was a distraction.

"You can stay here."

"I don't need your charity."

"You're not getting any." It was his turn to snap and push off his chair, walking over to her. He was assertive. And big. All man. Her assumption was right the first time she saw him. He shouldn't have been a teacher. He was too menacing to be one.

"If you were a charity case," his eyes narrowed at her, "I would throw your case on the headmaster's desk and look the other way. If you were a charity case, I would follow protocol. You. Are. Not. A. Charity. Case. You need a place until this blows over. You need to be honest with your dad about what's going on with your stepbrother. If he's a smart man, he may throw your stepbrother out once you explain. I'm counting on it. Until then, you stay here. Understood?"

There was a pause in which everything was completely silent, save for the distant hoots and hollers from the surrounding party boats.

Sakura hung her head, knowing he was right and hating it. "Yes."

"Good girl."

Only thing was… Sakura wasn't good. And she was about to become even worse than he had ever imagined, because this – right here – his compassion, was driving her nuts. Without thinking about the consequences – something she never did when she was around him – she pushed him to the chair in front of her and hopped on the wooden counter of the small kitchenette. She parted her thighs, ever so slightly. Pretending to check the bloody wound.

Syaoran swallowed hard, and her eyes caught the movement in his throat. His eyes dropped – finally, _finally_ – between her legs as he took another swig. _Victory._

Sakura's heart was doing cartwheels in her chest, and even though he hadn't so much as touched her, she felt herself growing slick. His eyes stayed fixed on her, and it gave her the courage to take it a little further. She slid her fingers up toward her plain white bikini underwear and grazed her clit over the fabric. For half a second, she was insecure about her less than sexy undergarments, but the look in his eyes – a little pissed off and a lot horny – squashed that thought.

She was afraid that he was going to turn her down again. Tell her to stop. Throw her in the fucking lake, she didn't know. But he didn't do any of those things. Instead, he stood and grabbed a bear – once more – then returned to the boost. This was the last thing she should've been thinking about doing after tonight, but this was the first time he hadn't shut her down, and she needed to know that she wasn't the only one feeling this. She needed to know she affected him as much as he affected her. He sat forward, with his elbows on his knees, the bottle dangling between two fingers as he studied her.

 _He wanted to watch_.

Sakura leaned back on her elbows and brought her knees up so her feet were resting on the edge of the counter. Now her legs were spread wide. If anyone walked in right now, he would've appeared to be disinterested. But she knew the truth. He wanted this. But he wanted her to take the choice from him. She rubbed herself over her panties, slowly circling her clit again. Touching herself was nothing new, but with Mr. Li watching her, it had never felt better. A moan slipped out, and her hips started rocking into her touch. He licked his lips and took another drink. When he sat back in his seat, she saw exactly how much he wanted her through his gym shorts. But he didn't make a move to touch himself.

 _Challenge accepted._

Sakura took a deep breath and pulled her panties to the side, showing him the parts of her no one else had ever seen. She had never been exposed like this. Even with her ex, it was only twice, and only ever in the dark, under the covers. She was spread out on display for her teacher, and the thought only got her hotter.

 _This. This is what I've been waiting for_.

"Fuck," he breathed, and she took that as a win. She slipped two fingers inside, and they slid in easily with how wet she was. Her head dropped back, and she fucked her fingers harder, rubbing at the tight bundle of nerves with the heel of her palm.

"I picture you touching me like this almost every night," she admitted breathlessly. "And in class. It's all I ever think about." He bit down on his plump bottom lip, but didn't respond.

She palmed her breast over her tank while she rocked into her other hand, and she felt it building. She wasn't going to last much longer. She glanced at him again. He stared at her like she was nothing and everything at the very same time. She had no idea what was going through his mind, and that just made it so much hotter. This was all a mind game. He could just be playing her, and thought she was nothing but a stupid little girl – a cheap, soon-to-be-broken toy. Jesus, she wasn't even sure if he was hard for her or for the situation. The sheer desperation that she exhibited as she offered him herself like a sacrifice.

She wanted to break that control. She stood and walked toward him. When she stood next to the table in front of him, she slid her underwear down her legs, letting them fall to the floor.

"Sakura," he warned, his voice still hard and gruff. It was the same stern voice that told her to stop touching herself. To go to the headmaster's office. To _behave_. Only tonight, she was going to misbehave until she broke him.

Before he had the chance to object, she sat on the corner of the table, swinging one leg around him so he was in between her thights. His breath came out ragged, and she propped herself up on one elbow, while her other hand snaked its way back down. His eyes were glued to where her fingers slowly worked their way in and out. In and out.

"I wonder what you taste like…" she whispered. "Your lips. Your cock. Do you ever wonder what I taste like?"

His jaw ticked once. "What do you think?"

"Why don't you find out?"

Sakura pulled her fingers out and swirled them around the rim of his beer, then she brought the wetness back, rubbing faster, harder. She was close, and when he brought the bottle to his lips and took a long pull – his eyes never leaving hers – she was done for. A primitive growl left his lips after he was done, and his tongue darted out, swiping over his lower lip to lick the remainder of her arousal. His lips were glistening with how she felt about him. With how much she wanted him.

"Syaoran." His name came out as a whine, and then she climaxed long and hard, her mouth falling open in a silent scream. She started to close her legs out of reflex, but she felt two strong hands grip her knees, keeping her spread open for him. And then she was coming again, long and hard.

"Fuck," she whispered, still jerking from the intensity of her orgasm.

"Shit!" he roared, dropping his hands from her knees like they were on fire. She was still floating when he stood abruptly and walked away, slamming the door to the little bathroom behind him.

It gave her time to make herself comfortable in her new domain.

The one she will reign, if only for a few days.

The one where she will make him her king.

* * *

 **s1983079**

Thanks for reading. This chapter is a bit shorter than the others but I preferred having it that way considering what happened. Once again, thanks for the reviews - it's really great to read and meet the people who are liking this story. If you can, leave a review. There is still over half the story left so I'm sure there are plenty of chapters to come.

 **Arise and Awaken** \- You can see where Sakura is going to stay for a bit until her dad gets back but yeah, I can't promise anything since I don't like it to be a straight-forward type of romance. Thanks for the review. I hope you like this chapter.

 **Monstar xo** \- This chapter has some insight as to what happened at the party so maybe that makes it easier to piece together. I hope you like this chapter.

 **ilovesyaoranforever** \- I think the SxS moment you've been waiting for happened here. It's only going to get more hot from now on.

 **Ap423** \- I prefer to write a lot of chapters at once to make sure they flow well before posting which is why they're coming so quickly. I like your thinking but you'll see how it pans out cos I don't wanna spoil. There's still over more than half a story left so plenty more to happen. I hope you like this chapter.


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